"Ah, she 's a very nice woman!"

"It 's not true, then," said Gordon, "that you tried to make love to
Angela?"

Bernard hesitated a single instant.

"No, it is n't true. I calumniated myself, to save her reputation. You
insisted on my giving you a reason for my not liking her--I gave you
that one."

"And your real reason--"

"My real reason is that I believe she would do you what I can't help
regarding as an injury."

"Of course!" and Gordon, dropping his interested eyes, stared for some
moments at the carpet. "But it is n't true, then, that you discovered
her to be a coquette?"

"Ah, that 's another matter."

"You did discover it all the same?"

"Since you want the whole truth--I did!"

"How did you discover it?" Gordon asked, clinging to his right of
interrogation.

Bernard hesitated.

"You must remember that I saw a great deal of her."

"You mean that she encouraged you?"

"If I had not been a very faithful friend I might have thought so."

Gordon laid his hand appreciatively, gratefully, on Bernard's shoulder.

"And even that did n't make you like her?"

"Confound it, you make me blush!" cried Bernard, blushing a little in
fact. "I have said quite enough; excuse me from drawing the portrait of
too insensible a man. It was my point of view; I kept thinking of you."

Gordon, with his hand still on his friend's arm, patted it an instant in
response to this declaration; then he turned away.

"I am much obliged to you. That 's my notion of friendship. You have
spoken out like a man."

"Like a man, yes. Remember that. Not in the least like an oracle."

"I prefer an honest man to all the oracles," said Gordon.

"An honest man has his impressions! I have given you mine--they pretend
to be nothing more. I hope they have n't offended you."

"Not in the least."

"Nor distressed, nor depressed, nor in any way discomposed you?"

"For what do you take me? I asked you a favor--a service; I imposed it
on you. You have done the thing, and my part is simple gratitude."

"Thank you for nothing," said Bernard, smiling. "You have asked me a
great many questions; there is one that in turn I have a right to ask
you. What do you propose to do in consequence of what I have told you?"

"I propose to do nothing."

This declaration closed the colloquy, and the young men separated.
Bernard saw Gordon no more that evening; he took for granted he had gone
to Mrs. Vivian's. The burden of Longueville'