THE WINGS OF THE DOVE
matter one by one, into her capacious lap. "But is that all he came to you for—to tell you she must be happy?"
"That she must be made so—that's the point. It seemed enough, as he told me," Mrs. Stringham went on; "he makes it, somehow, such a grand, possible affair."
"Ah, well, if he makes it possible!"
"I mean especially he makes it grand. He gave it to me, that is, as my part. The rest's his own."
"And what is the rest?" Mrs. Lowder asked.
"I don't know. His business. He means to keep hold of her."
"Then why do you say it isn't a 'case'? It must be very much of one."
Everything in Mrs. Stringham confessed to the extent of it. "It's only that it isn't the case she herself supposed."
"It's another?"
"It's another."
"Examining her for what she supposed, he finds something else?"
"Something else."
"And what does he find?"
"Ah," Mrs. Stringham cried, "God keep me from knowing!"
"He didn't tell you that?"
But poor Susie had recovered herself. "What I mean is that if it's there I shall know in time. He's considering, but I can trust him for it—because he
122
