THE WINGS OF THE DOVE
I mean is that he told her you've been all the while engaged to Miss Croy."
He gave a jerk round; it was almost—to hear it—the touch of a lash; and he said—idiotically, as he afterwards knew—the first thing that came into his head. "All what while?"
"Oh, it's not I who say it." She spoke in gentleness. "I only repeat to you what he told her."
Densher, from whom an impatience had escaped, had already caught himself up. "Pardon my brutality. Of course I know what you're talking about. I saw him, toward the evening," he further explained, "in the Piazza; only just saw him through the glass at Florian's—without any words. In fact I scarcely know him, and there wouldn't have been occasion. It was but once, moreover—he must have gone that night. But I knew he wouldn't have come for nothing, and I turned it over—what he would have come for."
Oh, so had Mrs. Stringham. "He came for exasperation."
Densher approved. "He came to let her know that he knows better than she for whom it was she had a couple of months before, in her fool's paradise, refused him."
"How you do know!"—and Mrs. Stringham almost smiled.
"I know that—but I don't know the good it does him."
"The good, he thinks, if he has patience—not too
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