Eugenio's tone apparently threw, even to Miss Miller's own apprehension,
a slightly ironical light upon the young girl's situation.
She turned to Winterbourne, blushing a little--a very little.
"You won't back out?" she said.

"I shall not be happy till we go!" he protested.

"And you are staying in this hotel?" she went on.
"And you are really an American?"

The courier stood looking at Winterbourne offensively. The young man,
at least, thought his manner of looking an offense to Miss Miller;
it conveyed an imputation that she "picked up" acquaintances. "I shall
have the honor of presenting to you a person who will tell you all about me,"
he said, smiling and referring to his aunt.

"Oh, well, we'll go some day," said Miss Miller.
And she gave him a smile and turned away. She put up
her parasol and walked back to the inn beside Eugenio.
Winterbourne stood looking after her; and as she moved away,
drawing her muslin furbelows over the gravel, said to himself
that she had the tournure of a princess.

He had, however, engaged to do more than proved feasible, in promising
to present his aunt, Mrs. Costello, to Miss Daisy Miller.
As soon as the former lady had got better of her headache,
he waited upon her in her apartment; and, after the proper
inquiries in regard to her health, he asked her if she had
observed in the hotel an American family--a mamma, a daughter,