How we cite our quotes:
Would a nice girl, even allowing for her being a little American flirt, make a rendezvous with a presumably low-lived foreigner? The rendezvous in this case, indeed, had been in broad daylight and in the most crowded corner of Rome, but was it not impossible to regard the choice of these circumstances as a proof of extreme cynicism? (2.89)
They say it's only paranoia if you're wrong. So, we suppose Winterbourne's not paranoid. Or… is he?
"Singular though it may seem, Winterbourne was vexed that the young girl, in joining her amoroso, should not appear more impatient of his own company, and he was vexed because of his inclination." (2.89)
Don't you just hate the old double-vex? When you know you shouldn't want something and you don't get it?
He stood there, looking at her—looking at her companion and not reflecting that though he saw them vaguely, he himself must have been more brightly visible. He felt angry with himself that he had bothered so much about the right way of regarding Miss Daisy Miller. (2.240)
This moment totally breaks our hearts, because it's when Winterbourne finally decides that—after a fleeting promise of being reinvigorated by the charming Miss Miller—he's finally dissatisfied with her, too.