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‘You can do more at least than I. I don’t know what mys-
terious connection he may have discovered between me and
Pansy; but he came to me from the first, as if I held his for-
tune in my hand. Now he keeps coming back, to spur me up,
to know what hope there is, to pour out his feelings.’
‘He’s very much in love,’ said Isabel.
‘Very much-for him.’
‘Very much for Pansy, you might say as well.’
Madame Merle dropped her eyes a moment. ‘Don’t you
think she’s attractive?’
‘The dearest little person possible-but very limited.’
‘She ought to be all the easier for Mr. Rosier to love. Mr.
Rosier’s not unlimited.’
‘No,’ said Isabel, ‘he has about the extent of one’s pocket-
handkerchief-the small ones with lace borders.’ Her humour
had lately turned a good deal to sarcasm, but in a moment
she was ashamed of exercising it on so innocent an object
as Pansy’s suitor. ‘He’s very kind, very honest,’ she presently
added; ‘and he’s not such a fool as he seems.’
‘He assures me that she delights in him,’ said Madame
Merle.
‘I don’t know; I’ve not asked her.’
‘You’ve never sounded her a little?’
‘It’s not my place; it’s her father’s.’
‘Ah, you’re too literal!’ said Madame Merle.
‘I must judge for myself.’
Madame Merle gave her smile again. ‘It isn’t easy to help
you.’
‘To help me?’ said Isabel very seriously. ‘What do you

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