Winterbourne continued to curl his mustache meditatively.
"You won't let the poor girl know you then?" he asked at last.

"Is it literally true that she is going to the Chateau de Chillon with you?"

"I think that she fully intends it."

"Then, my dear Frederick," said Mrs. Costello, "I must decline the honor
of her acquaintance. I am an old woman, but I am not too old, thank Heaven,
to be shocked!"

"But don't they all do these things--the young girls in America?"
Winterbourne inquired.

Mrs. Costello stared a moment. "I should like to see my granddaughters
do them!" she declared grimly.

This seemed to throw some light upon the matter, for Winterbourne remembered
to have heard that his pretty cousins in New York were "tremendous flirts."
If, therefore, Miss Daisy Miller exceeded the liberal margin allowed to
these young ladies, it was probable that anything might be expected of her.
Winterbourne was impatient to see her again, and he was vexed with himself
that, by instinct, he should not appreciate her justly.

Though he was impatient to see her, he hardly knew what he should
say to her about his aunt's refusal to become acquainted with her;
but he discovered, promptly enough, that with Miss Daisy Miller there
was no great need of walking on tiptoe. He found her that evening in
the garden, wandering about in the warm starlight like an indolent sylph,