Giovanelli, from the first, had treated Winterbourne with distinguished politeness.  He listened with a deferential air to his remarks; he laughed punctiliously at his pleasantries; he seemed disposed to testify to his belief that Winterbourne was a superior young man.  He carried himself in no degree like a jealous wooer; he had obviously a great deal of tact; he had no objection to your expecting a little humility of him.  It even seemed to Winterbourne at times that Giovanelli would find a certain mental relief in being able to have a private understanding with him—­to say to him, as an intelligent man, that, bless you, he knew how extraordinary was this young lady, and didn’t flatter himself with delusive—­ or at least too delusive—­hopes of matrimony and dollars.  On this occasion he strolled away from his companion to pluck a sprig of almond blossom, which he carefully arranged in his buttonhole.

“I know why you say that,” said Daisy, watching Giovanelli. 
“Because you think I go round too much with him.” 
And she nodded at her attendant.

“Every one thinks so—­if you care to know,” said Winterbourne.

“Of course I care to know!” Daisy exclaimed seriously. 
“But I don’t believe it.  They are only pretending to be shocked. 
They don’t really care a straw what I do.  Besides, I don’t
go round so much.”

“I think you will find they do care.  They will show it disagreeably.”

Daisy looked at him a moment.  “How disagreeably?”

“Haven’t you noticed anything?” Winterbourne asked.

“I have noticed you.  But I noticed you were as stiff as an umbrella the first time I saw you.”

“You will find I am not so stiff as several others,” said Winterbourne, smiling.

“How shall I find it?”

“By going to see the others.”

“What will they do to me?”

“They will give you the cold shoulder.  Do you know what that means?”

Daisy was looking at him intently; she began to color. 
“Do you mean as Mrs. Walker did the other night?”

“Exactly!” said Winterbourne.

She looked away at Giovanelli, who was decorating himself with his almond blossom.  Then looking back at Winterbourne, “I shouldn’t think you would let people be so unkind!” she said.

“How can I help it?” he asked.

“I should think you would say something.”

“I do say something”; and he paused a moment.  “I say that your mother tells me that she believes you are engaged.”

“Well, she does,” said Daisy very simply.

Winterbourne began to laugh.  “And does Randolph believe it?” he asked.

“I guess Randolph doesn’t believe anything,” said Daisy.  Randolph’s skepticism excited Winterbourne to further hilarity, and he observed that Giovanelli was coming back to them.  Daisy, observing it too, addressed herself again to her countryman.  “Since you have mentioned it,” she said, “I am engaged.” * * * Winterbourne looked at her; he had stopped laughing.  “You don’t believe!” she added.