Page:The Wings of the Dove (New York, Charles Scribners Sons, 1902), Volume 2.djvu/222

 It was as if, being in possession, they could say what they liked; and it was also as if, in consequence of that, each had an apprehension of what the other wanted to say. It was most of all, for them, moreover, as if this very quantity, seated on their lips in the bright, historic air, where the only sign for their ears was the flutter of the doves, begot in the heart of each a fear. There might have been a betrayal of that in the way Densher broke the silence that had followed her last words. "What did you mean just now that I can do to make Mrs. Lowder believe? For myself, stupidly, if you will, I don't see, from the moment I can't lie to her, what else there is but lying."

Well, she could tell him. "You can say something both handsome and sincere to her about Milly—whom you honestly like so much. That wouldn't be lying; and, coming from you, it would have an effect. You don't, you know, say much about her." And Kate put before him the fruit of observation. "You don't, you know, speak of her at all."

"And has Aunt Maud," Densher asked, "told you so?" Then as the girl, for answer, only hesitated, "You must have extraordinary conversations!" he exclaimed.

Yes, she had hesitated. But she decided. "We have extraordinary conversations."

His look, while their eyes met, marked him as disposed to hear more about them; but there was 212