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is a poor account of it.’
Isabel shook her head as if to carry off a blunder. ‘I’ve
refused a most kind, noble gentleman. Make the most of
that.’
‘I thank you then,’ said Caspar Goodwood gravely. ‘I
thank you immensely.’
‘And now you had better go home.’
‘May I not see you again?’ he asked.
‘I think it’s better not. You’ll be sure to talk of this, and
you see it leads to nothing.’
‘I promise you not to say a word that will annoy you.’
Isabel reflected and then answered: ‘I return in a day or
two to my uncle’s, and I can’t propose to you to come there.
It would be too inconsistent.’
Caspar Goodwood, on his side, considered. ‘You must do
me justice too. I received an invitation to your uncle’s more
than a week ago, and I declined it.’
She betrayed surprise. ‘From whom was your invita-
tion?’
‘From Mr. Ralph Touchett, whom I suppose to be your
cousin. I declined it because I had not your authorization to
accept it. The suggestion that Mr. Touchett should invite me
appeared to have come from Miss Stackpole.’
‘It certainly never did from me. Henrietta really goes
very far,’ Isabel added.
‘Don’t be too hard on her—that touches me.’
‘No; if you declined you did quite right, and I thank you
for it.’ And she gave a little shudder of dismay at the thought
that Lord Warburton and Mr. Goodwood might have met

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