"Well," she said, restlessly, "why don't you say something to me?"
"There isn't anything to say," he replied.
"You are thinking that I am very bad?" she said.
"You are trying to persuade yourself that you are very bad, and are finding a fictitious excitement in it; but it is all a mistake. It won't prove the consolation you expect it to," he answered. "Suppose you give it up before it gives rise to complications."
"We are talking of Bertha Amory again," she said. "Let us talk about Agnes Sylvestre. Don't you find her very beautiful?"
"Yes," he replied.
"Why don't you say more than 'yes'?" she asked. "You mean more."
"I couldn't mean more," he answered. "I should think it was enough to mean that much; there are even circumstances under which it might be too much."
"She is lovelier than she used to be," said Bertha, reflectively; "and more fascinating."