Page 746 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

‘He’ll say now that you’re not wise,’ said Isabel, as if Gil-
bert Osmond had never said this before.
Rosier gave her a sharp look. ‘Do you mean that without
my bibelots I’m nothing? Do you mean they were the best
thing about me? That’s what they told me in Paris; oh they
were very frank about it. But they hadn’t seen her!’
‘My dear friend, you deserve to succeed,’ said Isabel very
kindly.
‘You say that so sadly that it’s the same as if you said I
shouldn’t.’ And he questioned her eyes with the clear trepi-
dation of his own. He had the air of a man who knows he has
been the talk of Paris for a week and is full half a head taller
in consequence, but who also has a painful suspicion that in
spite of this increase of stature one or two persons still have
the perversity to think him diminutive. ‘I know what hap-
pened here while I was away,’ he went on. ‘What does Mr.
Osmond expect after she has refused Lord Warburton?’
Isabel debated. ‘That she’ll marry another nobleman.’
‘What other nobleman?’
‘One that he’ll pick out.’
Rosier slowly got up, putting his watch into his waistcoat-
pocket.
‘You’re laughing at some one, but this time I don’t think
it’s at me.’
‘I didn’t mean to laugh,’ said Isabel. ‘I laugh very seldom.
Now you had better go away.’
‘I feel very safe!’ Rosier declared without moving. This
might be; but it evidently made him feel more so to make
the announcement in rather a loud voice, balancing himself

746 The Portrait of a Lady