And indeed he had no great desire to share his vague mistrust with any one.
There was a personal pleasure in it; the greatest pleasure he had known at least since he had come from China.

He would keep the Baroness, for better or worse, to himself; he had a feeling that he deserved to enjoy a monopoly of her, for he was certainly the person who had most adequately gauged her capacity for social intercourse.

Before long it became apparent to him that the Baroness was disposed to lay no tax upon such a monopoly.
One day (he was sitting there again and playing with a fan) she asked him to apologize, should the occasion present itself, to certain people in Boston for her not having returned their calls.

"There are half a dozen places," she said; "a formidable list.

Charlotte Wentworth has written it out for me, in a terrifically distinct hand.