Doubtless she did not choose to let him know how deeply this question of his power concerned her.
Mallard felt something like compassion; yet not ordinary compassion either, for at the same time he had a desire to break down this reserve, and see still more of what she felt.

Curious; that evening when he dined at the villa, he had already become aware of this sort of attraction in her, an appeal to his sympathies together with the excitement of his combative spirit--if that expressed it.
"No man," he remarked, "ever did solid work except in his own strength.
One can be encouraged in effort, but the effort must originate in one's self." Miriam kept silence.

He put a direct question.
"Have you yourself encouraged him to pursue this idea ?" "I have not _dis_couraged him." "In your brother's case, discouragement would probably be the result if direct encouragement were withheld." Again she said nothing, and again Mallard felt a desire to subdue the pride, or whatever it might be, that had checked the growth of friendliness between them in its very beginning.

He remained mute for a long time, until they were nearing Pozzuoli, but Miriam showed no disposition to be the first to speak.

At length he said abruptly: "Shall you go to the San Carlo during the winter ?" "The San Carlo ?" she asked inquiringly.
"The opera." Mallard was in a strange mood.