"To help her?" Waterville asked.
"To tell her about me. To give her information, that she can make use of against me. You may tell her what you like!"
Waterville was almost breathless with the attention he had given this extraordinary burst of confidence, and now he really felt faint. He stopped short; Mrs. Headway went on a few steps, and then, stopping too, turned and looked at him. "You 're the most unspeakable woman!" he exclaimed. She seemed to' him indeed a barbarian.
She laughed at him—he felt she was laughing at his expression of face—and her laugh rang through the stately gardens. "What sort of a woman is that?"
"You've got no delicacy," said Waterville, resolutely. She colored quickly, though, strange to say, she appeared not to be angry. "No delicacy?" she repeated.
"You ought to keep those things to yourself."
"Oh, I know what you mean; I talk about everything. When I 'm excited I 've got to talk. But I must do things in my own way. I 've got plenty of delicacy, when people are nice to me. Ask Arthur Demesne if I ain't delicate—ask George Littlemore if I ain't. Don't stand there all day; come in to lunch!" And Mrs. Headway resumed her walk, while Rupert Waterville, raising his eyes for a moment, slowly overtook her. "Wait till I get settled;
