"No, of course not. . . . Only there are times . . . moments . . ."

Her voice died; her clear eyes looked out into space while the silent
seconds lengthened into minutes. One slender finger had slipped between
her lips and teeth; the burnished strand of hair which Nina dreaded lay
neglected against her cheek.

"I should like to know," she began, as though to herself, "something
about everything. That being out of the question, I should like to know
everything about something. That also being out of the question, for
third choice I should like to know something about something. I am not
too ambitious, am I?"

Selwyn did not offer to answer.

"_Am_ I?" she repeated, looking directly at him.

"I thought you were asking yourself."

"But you need not reply; there is no sense in my question."

She stood up, indifferent, absent-eyed, half turning toward the window;
and, raising her hand, she carelessly brought the rebel strand of hair
under discipline.

"You _said_ you were going to look up Gerald," she observed.

"I am; now. What are you going to do?"