Page 711 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

‘No, he wouldn’t like it. But I might go, all the same.’
‘I’m startled by the boldness of your imagination. Fancy
my being a cause of disagreement between a lady and her
husband!’
‘That’s why I don’t go,’ said Isabel simply-yet not very lu-
cidly.
Ralph understood well enough, however. ‘I should think
so, with all those occupations you speak of.’
‘It isn’t that. I’m afraid,’ said Isabel. After a pause she
repeated, as if to make herself, rather than him, hear the
words: ‘I’m afraid.’
Ralph could hardly tell what her tone meant; it was so
strangely deliberate-apparently so void of emotion. Did she
wish to do public penance for a fault of which she had not
been convicted? or were her words simply an attempt at en-
lightened self-analysis? However this might be, Ralph could
not resist so easy an opportunity. ‘Afraid of your husband?’
‘Afraid of myself! ‘ she said, getting up. She stood there
a moment and then added: ‘If I were afraid of my husband
that would be simply my duty. That’s what women are ex-
pected to be.’
‘Ah yes,’ laughed Ralph; ‘but to make up for it there’s al-
ways some man awfully afraid of some woman!’
She gave no heed to this pleasantry, but suddenly took
a different turn. ‘With Henrietta at the head of your little
band,’ she exclaimed abruptly, ‘there will be nothing left for
Mr. Goodwood!’
‘Ah, my dear Isabel,’ Ralph answered, ‘he’s used to that.
There is nothing left for Mr. Goodwood.’

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