Page 756 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

for me; I must go to Gardencourt.’
‘Why must you go to Gardencourt?’ Osmond asked in
the tone of impartial curiosity.
‘To see Ralph before he dies.’
To this, for some time, he made no rejoinder; he contin-
ued to give his chief attention to his work, which was of a
sort that would brook no negligence.
‘I don’t see the need of it,’ he said at last. ‘He came to
see you here. didn’t like that; I thought his being in Rome a
great mistake. But I tolerated it because it was to be the last
time you should see him. Now you tell me it’s not to have
been the last. Ah, you’re not grateful!’
‘What am I to be grateful for?’
Gilbert Osmond laid down his little implements, blew a
speck of dust from his drawing, slowly got up, and for the
first time looked at his wife. ‘For my not having interfered
while he was here.’
‘Oh yes, I am. I remember perfectly how distinctly you
let me know you didn’t like it. I was very glad when he went
away.’
‘Leave him alone then. Don’t run after him.’
Isabel turned her eyes away from him; they rested upon
his little drawing. ‘I must go to England,’ she said, with a
full consciousness that her tone might strike an irritable
man of taste as stupidly obstinate.
‘I shall not like it if you do,’ Osmond remarked.
‘Why should I mind that? You won’t like it if I don’t. You
like nothing do or don’t do. You pretend to think I lie.’
Osmond turned slightly pale; he gave a cold smile. ‘That’s

756 The Portrait of a Lady