"I am very well, thank you, Mr. Mainprice," said Juliet. "So you are in London again. We last met at Lynton, if you remember."
"I am not likely to forget it," he replied. "It will soon be a year since we met. How much has happened since!"
"Yes," said Juliet, looking down.
He observed her more closely, and it struck him that she had changed considerably during the interval. She had lost none of her beauty; she was if possible prettier than before, but somewhat of her childlike charm had gone. The lines of her face had hardened; she looked older and more determined, and, he fancied, less happy than when he had seen her at Lynton.
"I was very grieved to hear of your uncle's death," he said gently. "I little thought when I said good-bye to him at Lynton that I should see him no more. He was the best of friends, one of the kindest, most unselfish men I ever met with. He was very happy after his return to England. The meeting with you and your mother made such a difference to his life. You must be glad to think how much you added to his happiness during those last months."
"You mean that he added to my happiness," said Juliet. "I did nothing to make him happy. He never thought of himself, and I did not either. I am afraid," she added, suddenly moved to confession, "I am a very selfish person."
"We all find ourselves that, I think," he replied. "We hardly begin to be otherwise till we have recognised that fact."
She made no reply.
"You were rejoicing in the freedom to take your own way when I saw you last," he said, regarding her with close observation. "You were bent on having your own way in everything, and believed that so you would find happiness. Is that still your aim, or have you come to take a larger and nobler view of life?"
Juliet lifted her head and looked at him with defiant eyes. "You find me no wiser, Mr. Mainprice. I still like my own way better than anything else, and I mean to have it too!"