"Not yet, at any rate. I do not always go to the men as you call it." She put on her hat and tripped out with him, knowing well that she had been summoned to hear the old story. She had been sure, as soon as she found the white rose in her room, that the old story would be repeated again before she left Carbury;--and, up to this time, she had hardly made up her mind what answer she would give to it. That she could not take his offer, she thought she did know. She knew well that she loved the other man. That other man had never asked her for her love, but she thought that she knew that he desired it. But in spite of all this there had in truth grown up in her bosom a feeling of tenderness towards her cousin so strong that it almost tempted her to declare to herself that he ought to have what he wanted, simply because he wanted it. He was so good, so noble, so generous, so devoted, that it almost seemed to her that she could not be justified in refusing him. And she had gone entirely over to his side in regard to the Melmottes. 
She put on her hat and tripped out with him, knowing well that she had been summoned to hear the old story. She had been sure that the old story would be repeated again before she left Carbury; and she had hardly decided what answer she would give.
She knew well that she loved the other man. That other man had never asked for her love, but she thought that he desired it. In spite of this there had grown up in her bosom a feeling of tenderness towards Roger so strong that it almost tempted her to think that he ought to have what he wanted. He was so good, so noble, so generous, so devoted, that it almost seemed she could not be justified in refusing him. 