and swinging to and fro the largest fan he had ever beheld.
It was ten o'clock. He had dined with his aunt, had been sitting with
her since dinner, and had just taken leave of her till the morrow.
Miss Daisy Miller seemed very glad to see him; she declared it
was the longest evening she had ever passed.

"Have you been all alone?" he asked.

"I have been walking round with mother. But mother gets tired
walking round," she answered.

"Has she gone to bed?"

"No; she doesn't like to go to bed," said the young girl.
"She doesn't sleep--not three hours. She says she
doesn't know how she lives. She's dreadfully nervous.
I guess she sleeps more than she thinks. She's gone somewhere
after Randolph; she wants to try to get him to go to bed.
He doesn't like to go to bed."

"Let us hope she will persuade him," observed Winterbourne.

"She will talk to him all she can; but he doesn't like her to talk
to him," said Miss Daisy, opening her fan. "She's going to try
to get Eugenio to talk to him. But he isn't afraid of Eugenio.
Eugenio's a splendid courier, but he can't make much impression
on Randolph! I don't believe he'll go to bed before eleven."
It appeared that Randolph's vigil was in fact triumphantly prolonged,
for Winterbourne strolled about with the young girl for some
time without meeting her mother. "I have been looking round