With a horse, or a
tennis court, or even a ball to amuse her, she would appear at her very
best; would be at ease and do the right thing. But when called upon to
sustain a conversation, such as that into which her curiosity about
Isaacs had plunged her, she did not know what to do. She was
constrained, and even some of her native grace of manner forsook her.
Why did she avoid his eyes and resort to such a petty little trick as
threading a needle in order to get a look at him? An American girl, or a
French woman, would have seen that her strength lay in perfect
frankness; that Isaacs' straightforward nature would make him tell her
unhesitatingly anything she wanted to know about himself, and that her
position was strong enough for her to look him in the face and ask him
what she pleased. But she allowed herself to be embarrassed, and though
she had been really glad to see him, and liked him and thought him
handsome, she was beginning to wish he would go, merely because she did
not know what to talk about, and would not give him a chance to choose
his own subject. As neither of us were inclined to carry the analysis of
matrimony any farther, nor to dispute the opinions of Mr. Currie
Ghyrkins as quoted by his niece, there was a pause. I struck in and
boldly changed the subject.
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