Page 464 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

‘I don’t know. She seemed to think she had not seen Eu-
rope thoroughly.’
‘I’m glad you tell me that,’ Isabel said. ‘I must prepare
for her.’
Mr. Goodwood fixed his eyes for a moment on the floor;
then at last, raising them, ‘Does she know Mr. Osmond?’ he
enquired.
‘A little. And she doesn’t like him. But of course I don’t
marry to please Henrietta,’ she added. It would have been
better for poor Caspar if she had tried a little more to gratify
Miss Stackpole; but he didn’t say so; he only asked, present-
ly, when her marriage would take place. To which she made
answer that she didn’t know yet. ‘I can only say it will be
soon. I’ve told no one but yourself and one other person-an
old friend of Mr. Osmond’s.’
‘Is it a marriage your friends won’t like?’ he demanded.
‘I really haven’t an idea. As I say, I don’t marry for my
friends.’
He went on, making no exclamation, no comment, only
asking questions, doing it quite without delicacy. ‘Who and
what then is Mr. Gilbert Osmond?’
‘Who and what? Nobody and nothing but a very good
and very honourable man. He’s not in business,’ said Isabel.
‘He’s not rich; he’s not known for anything in particular.’
She disliked Mr. Goodwood’s questions, but she said to
herself that she owed it to him to satisfy him as far as pos-
sible. The satisfaction poor Caspar exhibited was, however,
small; he sat very upright, gazing at her. ‘Where does he
come from? Where does he belong?’

464 The Portrait of a Lady