her go! But she must take the first step. I confess, I hope she 'll be nice."
"Perhaps she won't," said Waterville perversely.
"Well, I don't care if she isn't. He has never told me anything about her; never a word about any of his own belongings. If I wished, I might believe he 's ashamed of them."
"I don't think it's that."
"I know it isn't. I know what it is. It's just modesty. He does n't want to brag—he 's too much of a gentleman. He does n't want to dazzle me—he wants me to like him for himself. Well, I do like him," she added in a moment. "But I shall like him still better if he brings his mother. They shall know that in America."
"Do you think it will make an impression in America?" Waterville asked, smiling.
"It will show them that I am visited by the British aristocracy. They won't like that."
"Surely they grudge you no innocent pleasure," Waterville murmured, smiling still.
"They grudged me common politeness when I was in New York! Did you ever hear how they treated me, when I came on from the West?"
Waterville stared; this episode was quite new to him. His companion had turned towards him; her pretty head was tossed back like a flower in the wind; there was a flush in her cheek, a sharper light in her eye. "Ah! my dear New Yorkers, they 're incapable of rudeness!" cried the young man.
