"Something—" Mr. Digby easily assented.
"And what is she, if you can tell?"
"I do not know that I can tell, what you will find her. Do you not think, Mrs. Busby, that a human character of any richness shews different sides of itself to different persons, as varying affinities call out corresponding developments?"
"Then you call hers, a character of some richness?"
"I suppose I implied as much."
"And will you tell me what you have found her?"
"Pardon me; that would be an injustice to her. You would naturally look to verify my impressions, and perhaps could not do it. It is unkind to praise or blame anybody beforehand to third persons. You make it impossible for the balance of judgment to swing clear."
"She ought to come here at once. Will you bring her to-morrow?"
"I think not to-morrow."
"Why not? When, then?"