Page 670 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

conversation drop. On the morrow, however, coming into
the drawing-room late in the afternoon, her husband took
it up again.
‘When Lord Warburton told you of his intention of writ-
ing what did you say to him?’ he asked.
She just faltered. ‘I think I told him not to forget it.’
‘Did you believe there was a danger of that?’
‘As you say, he’s an odd fish.’
‘Apparently he has forgotten it,’ said Osmond. ‘Be so
good as to remind ‘Should you like me to write to him?’ she
demanded.
‘I’ve no objection whatever.’
‘You expect too much of me.’
‘Ah yes, I expect a great deal of you.’
‘I’m afraid I shall disappoint you,’ said Isabel.
‘My expectations have survived a good deal of disap-
pointment.’
‘Of course I know that. Think how I must have disap-
pointed myself! If you really wish hands laid on Lord
Warburton you must lay them yourself.’
For a couple of minutes Osmond answered nothing; then
he said: ‘That won’t be easy, with you working against me.’
Isabel started; she felt herself beginning to tremble. He
had a way of looking at her through half-closed eyelids, as if
he were thinking of her but scarcely saw her, which seemed
to her to have a wonderfully cruel intention. It appeared to
recognize her as a disagreeable necessity of thought, but to
ignore her for the time as a presence. That effect had never
been so marked as now. ‘I think you accuse me of some-

670 The Portrait of a Lady