‘You were not, certainly.’

‘I’m not speaking for myself.’ And she wandered off a little.

‘No, it isn’t a fault,’ said her cousin. ‘It’s a merit to be strong.’

‘Only, if you don’t suffer they call you hard,’ Isabel remarked.

They passed out of the smaller drawing-room, into which they had returned from the gallery, and paused in the hall, at the foot of the staircase. Here Ralph presented his companion with her bedroom candle, which he had taken from a niche. ‘Never mind what they call you. When you do suffer they call you an idiot. The great point’s to be as happy as possible.’

She looked at him a little; she had taken her candle and placed her foot on the oaken stair. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘that’s what I came to Europe for, to be as happy as possible. Good-night.’

‘Good-night! I wish you all success, and shall be very glad to contribute to it!’

She turned away, and he watched her as she slowly ascended. Then, with his hands always in his pockets, he went back to the empty drawing-room.