As Lydgate took her to the door she said nothing of Rosamond, but told him of Mr. Farebrother and the other friends who had listened with belief to his story.

When he came back to Rosamond, she had already thrown herself on the sofa, in resigned fatigue.

“Well, Rosy,” he said, standing over her, and touching her hair, “what do you think of Mrs. Casaubon now you have seen so much of her?”

“I think she must be better than anyone,” said Rosamond, “and she is very beautiful. If you go to talk to her so often, you will be more discontented with me than ever!”

Lydgate laughed at the “so often.” “But has she made you any less discontented with me?”