"It was the vulgarest thing I ever heard!" said the girl.

Hewson looked at her, but she had averted her face again. He had a
longing to tell her of his apparition which quelled every other interest
in him, and, as it were, blurred his whole consciousness. She would
understand, with her childlike truth, and with her unconventionality she
would not find it strange that he should speak to her of such a thing for
no apparent reason or no immediate cause. He walked silent at her side,
revolving his longing in his thought, and hating the circumstance which
forbade him to speak at once. He did not know how long he was lost in
this, when he was suddenly recalled to fearful question of the fact by
her saying, with another flash of her face toward him, "You _have_ lost
sleep Mr. Hewson!" and she whipped forward, and joined the other women,
who were following the lead of St. John and the widow.

Mrs. Rock, to whom Hewson had been presented at the same time as to Miss
Hernshaw, looked vaguely back at him over her shoulder, but made no
attempt to include him in her group, and he thought, for no reason, that
she was kept from doing so on account of Miss Hernshaw. He thought he
could be no more mistaken in this than in the resentment of Miss
Hernshaw, which he was aware of meriting, however unintentionally. Later,
after lunch, he made sure of this fact when Mrs. Rock got him into a
corner, and cozily began, "I always feel like explaining Rosalie a
little," and then her vague, friendly eye wandered toward Miss Hernshaw
across the room, and stopped, as if waiting for the girl to look away.
But Miss Hernshaw did not look away, and that afternoon, Hewson's week
being up, he left St. Johnswort before dinner.