I wished she would keep on so.
But she did keep on; she kept on too long; and then I began to feel hurt.
I couldn't think what I have done, and I can't think yet. It's as if she
had got some idea about me, or had heard some one say something. If some
girls should behave like that I shouldn't make any account of it; but
this one is so refined, and looks as if she might be so interesting if I
once got to know her, that I think about it a good deal. I am bound to
find out what her reason is--for of course she has got some reason; I am
right down curious to know.

I went up to her to ask her the day before yesterday; I thought that was
the best way. I told her I wanted to know her better, and would like to
come and see her in her room--they tell me she has got a lovely room--and
that if she had heard anything against me, perhaps she would tell me when
I came. But she was more distant than ever, and she just turned it off;
said that she had never heard me mentioned, and that her room was too
small to receive visitors. I suppose she spoke the truth, but I am sure
she has got some reason, all the same. She has got some idea, and I am
bound to find out before I go, if I have to ask everybody in the house. I
_am_ right down curious. I wonder if she doesn't think me refined--or if
she had ever heard anything against Bangor? I can't think it is that.
Don't you remember when Clara Barnard went to visit New York, three years
ago, how much attention she received? And you know Clara _is_ Bangor, to
the soles of her shoes. Ask William Platt--so long as he isn't a
native--if he doesn't consider Clara Barnard refined.

Apropos, as they say here, of refinement, there is another American in
the house--a gentleman from Boston--who is just crowded with it. His
name is Mr. Louis Leverett (such a beautiful name, I think), and he is
about thirty years old. He is rather small, and he looks pretty sick; he
suffers from some affection of the liver. But his conversation is
remarkably interesting, and I delight to listen to him--he has such
beautiful ideas. I feel as if it were hardly right, not being in French;
but, fortunately, he uses a great many French expressions. It's in a
different style from the conversation of Mr. Verdier--not so
complimentary, but more intellectual. He is intensely fond of pictures,
and has given me a great many ideas about them which I should never have
gained without him; I shouldn't have known where t