"She will, she won't--she won't, she will! It's the excitement, every day, of plucking the daisy over." Vanderbank's attention, as she spoke, had attached itself across the room to Mr.Longdon; it gave her thus an image of the way his imagination had just seemed to her to stray, and she saw a reason in it moreover for her coming up in another place.
"Isn't he rather rich ?" She allowed the question all its effect of abruptness.
Vanderbank looked round at her.

"Mr.Longdon?
I haven't the least idea." "Not after becoming so intimate?
It's usually, with people, the very first thing I get my impression of." There came into her face for another glance at their friend no crudity of curiosity, but an expression more tenderly wistful.

"He must have some mysterious box under his bed." "Down in Suffolk ?--a miser's hoard?
Who knows?
I dare say," Vanderbank went on.

"He isn't a miser, but he strikes me as careful." Mrs.Brook meanwhile had thought it out.

"Then he has something to be careful of; it would take something really handsome to inspire in a man like him that sort of interest.