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There was no longer complete frankness in
their relations. At moments her friend seemed to be subtly dominated
by some secret irritation, or anxiety, which she did not comprehend.
She had been aware of it yesterday. She was aware of it now. After his
last exclamation she said nothing.
"You are going to this girl now?" he asked.
"I mean to. Yes, I shall go."
She sat still for a minute, looking down at the pink-and-yellow
carpet.
"And what will you do?"
She looked up at him.
"I think I shall take her to the island. I am almost sure I shall.
Emile, I don't believe in cowardice, and I sometimes think I am
inclined to be a coward about Vere. She is growing up. She will be
seventeen this year, very soon. There are girls who marry at sixteen,
even English girls."
"That is true."
She could gather nothing from his tone; and now his face was perfectly
calm.
"My instinct is to keep Vere just as she is, to preserve the
loveliness of childhood in her as long as possible, to keep away from
her all knowledge of sin, sorrow, the things that distract and torture
the world.


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