It might have seemed after this that nothing could have remained but for our friend to break out in categoric praise of his fellow guest; but he was no more to be tempted into that danger than into another. “I can only say I like her,” he repeated. “She has been very kind to me.”
“Every one seems to like her,” said Lady Demesne with an unstudied effect of pathos. “She’s certainly very amusing.”
“She’s very good-natured. I think she has no end of good intentions.”
“What do you mean by good intentions?” asked Lady Demesne very sweetly.
“Well, it strikes me she wants to be friendly and pleasant.”
“Indeed she does! But of course you have to defend her. She’s your countrywoman.”
“To defend her I must wait till she’s attacked,” Waterville laughed.
“That’s very true. I needn’t call your attention to the fact that I’m not attacking her,” his hostess observed. “I should never attack a person staying in this house. I only want to know something about her, and if you can’t tell me perhaps at least you can mention some one who will.”
“She’ll tell you herself. Tell you by the hour!”
“What she has told my son? I shouldn’t understand it. My son doesn’t understand it.” She had a full pause, a profusion of patience; then she resumed disappointedly: “It’s very strange. I rather hoped you might explain it.”