THE WINGS OF THE DOVE
"God knows. To some 'game,' as they say. To some deviltry. To some duplicity."
"Which of course," Mrs. Stringham observed, "is a monstrous supposition." Her companion, after a stiff minute—long, sensibly, for each—fell away from her again, and then added to it another minute, which he spent once more looking out with his hands in his pockets. This was no answer, he perfectly knew, to what she had dropped, and it even seemed to state, for his own ears, that no answer was possible. She left him to himself, and he was glad she had declined, for their further colloquy, the advantage of lights. These would have been an advantage mainly to herself. Yet she got her benefit, too; even from the absence of them. It came out in her very tone when at last she addressed him—so differently, for confidence—in words she had already used. "If Sir Luke himself asks it of you as something you can do for him, will you deny to Milly herself what she has been made so dreadfully to believe?"
Oh, how he knew he hung back! But at last he said: "You're absolutely certain then that she does believe it?"
"Certain?" She appealed to their whole situation. "Judge!"
He took his time again to judge. "Do you believe it?"
He was conscious that his own appeal pressed her hard; it eased him a little that her answer must be a
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