Page 797 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

‘Yes; I went on purpose. We thought you’d like to know.’
greatly obliged to you. Can I go down to-night?’
‘Ah, I don’t think she’ll let you go,’ said Mr. Bantling. ‘She
wants you to stop with her. I made Touchett’s man promise
to telegraph me to-day, and I found the telegram an hour
ago at my club. ‘Quiet and easy,’ that’s what it says, and it’s
dated two o’clock. So you see you can wait till tomorrow.
You must be awfully tired.’
‘Yes, I’m awfully tired. And I thank you again.’
‘Oh,’ said Mr. Bantling, ‘we were certain you would like
the last news.’ On which Isabel vaguely noted that he and
Henrietta seemed after all to agree. Miss Stackpole came
back with Isabel’s maid, whom she had caught in the act of
proving her utility. This excellent person, instead of losing
herself in the crowd, had simply attended to her mistress’s
luggage, so that the latter was now at liberty to leave the
station. ‘You know you’re not to think of going to the coun-
try to-night,’ Henrietta remarked to her. ‘It doesn’t matter
whether there’s a train or not. You’re to come straight to me
in Wimpole Street. There isn’t a corner to be had in London,
but I’ve got you one all the same. It isn’t a Roman palace, but
it will do for a night.’
‘I’ll do whatever you wish,’ Isabel said.
‘You’ll come and answer a few questions; that’s what I
wish.’
‘She doesn’t say anything about dinner, does she, Mrs.
Osmond?’ Mr.
Bantling enquired jocosely.
Henrietta fixed him a moment with her speculative gaze.

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