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told you that it was exactly what you seemed to me to be try-
ing to do with your own.’
She looked up from her book. ‘What you despise most in
the world is bad, is stupid art.’
‘Possibly. But yours seem to me very clear and very
good.’
‘If I were to go to Japan next winter you would laugh at
me,’ she went on.
Osmond gave a smile—a keen one, but not a laugh, for
the tone of their conversation was not jocose. Isabel had in
fact her solemnity; he had seen it before. ‘You have an imag-
ination that startles one!’
‘That’s exactly what I say. You think such an idea ab-
surd.’
‘I would give my little finger to go to Japan; it’s one of the
countries I want most to see. Can’t you believe that, with my
taste for old lacquer?’
‘I haven’t a taste for old lacquer to excuse me,’ said Isa-
bel.
‘You’ve a better excuse—the means of going. You’re quite
wrong in your theory that I laugh at you. I don’t know what
has put it into your head.’
‘It wouldn’t be remarkable if you did think it ridiculous
that I should have the means to travel when you’ve not; for
you know everything, and I know nothing.’
‘The more reason why you should travel and learn,’
smiled Osmond. ‘Besides,’ he added as if it were a point to
be made, ‘I don’t know everything.’
Isabel was not struck with the oddity of his saying this

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