for that lady you want to introduce me to," his companion resumed.
"She's your aunt." Then, on Winterbourne's admitting the fact
and expressing some curiosity as to how she had learned it,
she said she had heard all about Mrs. Costello from the chambermaid.
She was very quiet and very comme il faut; she wore white puffs;
she spoke to no one, and she never dined at the table d'hote.
Every two days she had a headache. "I think that's a lovely
description, headache and all!" said Miss Daisy, chattering along
in her thin, gay voice. "I want to know her ever so much.
I know just what YOUR aunt would be; I know I should like her.
She would be very exclusive. I like a lady to be exclusive;
I'm dying to be exclusive myself. Well, we ARE exclusive,
mother and I. We don't speak to everyone--or they don't speak to us.
I suppose it's about the same thing. Anyway, I shall be ever
so glad to know your aunt."

Winterbourne was embarrassed. "She would be most happy," he said;
"but I am afraid those headaches will interfere."

The young girl looked at him through the dusk.
"But I suppose she doesn't have a headache every day,"
she said sympathetically.

Winterbourne was silent a moment. "She tells me she does,"
he answered at last, not knowing what to say.

Miss Daisy Miller stopped and stood looking at him. Her prettiness
was still visible in the darkness; she was opening and closing her
enormous fan. "She doesn't want to know me!" she said suddenly.
"Why don't you say so? You needn't be afraid. I'm not afraid!"