"I am sure something has agitated you. You ought to confide in me, Gwen. You ought not to leave me in doubt and anxiety." Mrs Davilow's eyes filled with tears.
"Mamma, dear, please don't be miserable," said Gwendolen, with pettish remonstrance. "It only makes me more so. I am in doubt myself."
"About Mr Grandcourt's intentions?" said Mrs Davilow, gathering determination from her alarms.
"No; not at all," said Gwendolen, with some curtness, and a pretty little toss of the head as she put on her hat again.
"About whether you will accept him, then?"
"Precisely."
"Have you given him a doubtful answer?"
"I have given him no answer at all."
"He has spoken so that you could not misunderstand him?"
"As far as I would let him speak."
"You expect him to persevere?" Mrs Davilow put this question rather anxiously, and receiving no answer, asked another. "You don't consider that you have discouraged him?"
"I daresay not."
"I thought you liked him, dear," said Mrs Davilow, timidly.
