Page 120 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

Henrietta gazed at her as usual. ‘Why, it’s just what the
people want, and it’s a lovely place.’
‘It’s too lovely to be put in the newspapers, and it’s not
what my uncle wants.’
‘Don’t you believe that!’ cried Henrietta. ‘They’re always
delighted afterwards.’
‘My uncle won’t be delighted—nor my cousin either.
They’ll consider it a breach of hospitality.’
Miss Stackpole showed no sense of confusion; she simply
wiped her pen, very neatly, upon an elegant little implement
which she kept for the purpose, and put away her manu-
script. ‘Of course if you don’t approve I won’t do it; but I
sacrifice a beautiful subject.’
‘There are plenty of other subjects, there are subjects
all round you. We’ll take some drives; I’ll show you some
charming scenery.’
‘Scenery’s not my department; I always need a human
interest. You know I’m deeply human, Isabel; I always was,’
Miss Stackpole rejoined. ‘I was going to bring in your cous-
in—the alienated American. There’s a great demand just
now for the alienated American, and your cousin’s a beauti-
ful specimen. I should have handled him severely.’
‘He would have died of it!’ Isabel exclaimed. ‘Not of the
severity, but of the publicity.’
‘Well, I should have liked to kill him a little. And I should
have delighted to do your uncle, who seems to me a much
nobler type—the American faithful still. He’s a grand old
man; I don’t see how he can object to my paying him hon-
our.’

120 The Portrait of a Lady