CONFIDENCE
"Nonsense! That's no excuse. The loved object is always complicated."
Gordon walked on in silence a moment.
"Well, then, I don't care a button what you think!"
"Bravo! That's the way a man should talk," cried Longueville. Gordon indulged in another fit of meditation, and then he said:
"Now that leaves you at liberty to say what you please."
"Ah, my dear fellow, you are ridiculous!" said Bernard.
"That's precisely what I want you to say. You always think me too reasonable."
"Well, I go back to my first assertion. I don't know Miss Vivian—I mean I don't know her to have opinions about her. I don't suppose you wish me to string you off a dozen mere banalités—'She's a charming girl—evidently a superior person—has a great deal of style.'"
"Oh no," said Gordon; "I know all that. But at any rate," he added, "you like her, eh?"
"I do more," said Longueville. "I admire her."
"Is that doing more?" asked Gordon reflectively.
"Well, the greater, whichever it is, includes the less."
"You won't commit yourself," said Gordon. "My dear Bernard," he added, "I thought you knew such an immense deal about women!"
Gordon Wright was of so kindly and candid a nature that it is hardly conceivable that this remark should have been framed to make Bernard commit himself by putting him on his mettle. Such a view would imply indeed on Gordon's part a greater familiarity with the uses of irony than he had ever possessed, as well as a livelier conviction of the
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