CONFIDENCE
"Oh yes," said Angela Vivian; "we were in the far south; we were five months at Sorrento."
"And nowhere else?"
"We spent a few days in Rome. We usually prefer the quiet places; that is my mother's taste."
"It was not your mother's taste, then," said Bernard, "that brought you to Baden?"
She looked at him a moment.
"You mean that Baden is not quiet?"
Longueville glanced about at the moving, murmuring crowd, at the lighted windows of the Conversation-house, at the great orchestra perched up in its pagoda.
"This is not my idea of absolute tranquillity."
"Nor mine either," said Miss Vivian. "I am not fond of absolute tranquillity."
"How do you arrange it, then, with your mother?"
Again she looked at him a moment, with her clever, slightly mocking smile.
"As you see. By making her come where I wish."
"You have a strong will," said Bernard; "I see that."
"No, I have simply a weak mother. But I make sacrifices too, sometimes."
"What do you call sacrifices?"
"Well, spending the winter at Sorrento."
Bernard began to laugh, and then he told her she must have had a very happy life—"to call a winter at Sorrento a sacrifice."
"It depends upon what one gives up," said Miss Vivian.
"What did you give up?"
She touched him with her mocking smile again.
"That is not a very civil question, asked in that way."
"You mean that I seem to doubt your abnegation?"
44
