"I must bid you good-afternoon," he said.
Octavia did not rise.
"Sit down a minute, while aunt Belinda is talking about red-flannel nightcaps and lumbago," she said. "I wanted to ask you something. By the way, what is lumbago?"
"Is that what you wished to ask me?" he inquired stiffly.
"No. I just thought of that. Have you ever had it? and what is it like? All the old people in Slowbridge have it, and they tell you all about it when you go to see them. Aunt Belinda says so. What I wanted to ask you was different"—
"Possibly Miss Bassett might be able to tell you," he remarked.
"About the lumbago? Well, perhaps she might. I'll ask her. Do you think it bad taste in me to wear diamonds?"
She said this with the most delightful seriousness, fixing her eyes upon him with her very prettiest look of candid appeal, as if it were the most natural thing in the world that she should apply to him for information. He felt himself faltering again. How white that bit of forehead was! How soft that blonde, waving fringe of hair! What a lovely shape her eyes were, and how large and clear as she raised them!
"Why do you ask me?" he inquired.
"Because I think you are an unprejudiced person. Lady Theobald is not. I have confidence in you. Tell me."