The Baroness, in her progress through the house, made, as it were, a great many stations.

She sat down everywhere, confessed to being a little tired, and asked about the various objects with a curious mixture of alertness and inattention.

If there had been any one to say it to she would have declared that she was positively in love with her host; but she could hardly make this declaration--even in the strictest confidence--to Acton himself.

It gave her, nevertheless, a pleasure that had some of the charm of unwontedness to feel, with that admirable keenness with which she was capable of feeling things, that he had a disposition without any edges; that even his humorous irony always expanded toward the point.

One's impression of his honesty was almost like carrying a bunch of flowers; the perfume was most agreeable, but they were occasionally an inconvenience.