Page 796 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

leaving the two for a moment together.
They stood there at first in silence, and then Mr. Bantling
asked Isabel how it had been on the Channel.
‘Very fine. No, I believe it was very rough,’ she said, to
her companion’s obvious surprise. After which she added:
‘You’ve been to Gardencourt, I know.’
‘Now how do you know that?’
‘I can’t tell you-except that you look like a person who
has been to Gardencourt.’
‘Do you think I look awfully sad? It’s awfully sad there,
you know.’
‘I don’t believe you ever look awfully sad. You look aw-
fully kind,’ said Isabel with a breadth that cost her no effort.
It seemed to her she should never again feel a superficial
embarrassment.
Poor Mr. Bantling, however, was still in this inferior
stage. He blushed a good deal and laughed, he assured her
that he was often very blue, and that when he was blue he
was awfully fierce. ‘You can ask Miss Stackpole, you know. I
was at Gardencourt two days ago.’
‘Did you see my cousin?’
‘Only for a little. But he had been seeing people; War-
burton had been there the day before. Ralph was just the
same as usual, except that he was in bed and that he looks
tremendously ill and that he can’t speak,’ Mr. Bantling pur-
sued. ‘He was awfully jolly and funny all the same. He was
just as clever as ever. It’s awfully wretched.’
Even in the crowded, noisy station this simple picture
was vivid. ‘Was that late in the day?’

796 The Portrait of a Lady