as she felt, for telling him the whole truth that no one knew. It had
arrived at present at her really wanting to do that, and yet to do it not
in the least for Mr. Mudge, but altogether and only for herself. This
truth filled out for her there the whole experience about to relinquish,
suffused and coloured it as a picture that she should keep and that,
describe it as she might, no one but herself would ever really see.
Moreover she had no desire whatever to make Mr. Mudge jealous; there
would be no amusement in it, for the amusement she had lately known had
spoiled her for lower pleasures. There were even no materials for it.
The odd thing was how she never doubted that, properly handled, his
passion was poisonable; what had happened was that he had cannily
selected a partner with no poison to distil. She read then and there
that she should never interest herself in anybody as to whom some other
sentiment, some superior view, wouldn't be sure to interfere for him with
jealousy. "And what did you get out of that?" he asked with a concern
that was not in the least for his honour.

"Nothing but a good chance to promise him I wouldn't forsake him. He's
one of my customers."

"Then it's for him not to forsake _you_."

"Well, he won't. It's all right. But I must just keep on as long as he
may want me."

"Want you to sit with him in the Park?"

"He may want me for that--but I shan't. I rather liked it, but once,
under the circumstances, is enough. I can do better for him in another
manner."