Page 232 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

and took off her bonnet. ‘I hope you’ve enjoyed your dinner,’
Isabel went on.
But her companion was not to be diverted by frivolous
propositions. ‘Do you know where you’re going, Isabel Ar-
cher?’
‘Just now I’m going to bed,’ said Isabel with persistent
frivolity.
‘Do you know where you’re drifting?’ Henrietta pursued,
holding out her bonnet delicately.
‘No, I haven’t the least idea, and I find it very pleasant
not to know. A swift carriage, of a dark night, rattling with
four horses over roads that one can’t see—that’s my idea of
happiness.’
‘Mr. Goodwood certainly didn’t teach you to say such
things as thatlike the heroine of an immoral novel,’ said
Miss Stackpole. ‘You’re drifting to some great mistake.’
Isabel was irritated by her friend’s interference, yet she
still tried to think what truth this declaration could rep-
resent. She could think of nothing that diverted her from
saying: ‘You must be very fond of me, Henrietta, to be will-
ing to be so aggressive.’
‘I love you intensely, Isabel,’ said Miss Stackpole with
feeling.
‘Well, if you love me intensely let me as intensely alone. I
asked that of Mr. Goodwood, and I must also ask it of you.’
‘Take care you’re not let alone too much.’
‘That’s what Mr. Goodwood said to me. I told him I must
take the risks.’
‘You’re a creature of risks—you make me shudder!’ cried

232 The Portrait of a Lady