Page 99 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

‘Well,’ her cousin rejoined, ‘if he isn’t he ought to be!’
In the afternoon she spent an hour with her uncle on the
lawn, where the old man sat, as usual, with his shawl over
his legs and his large cup of diluted tea in his hands. In the
course of conversation he asked her what she thought of
their late visitor.
Isabel was prompt. ‘I think he’s charming.’
‘He’s a nice person,’ said Mr. Touchett, ‘but I don’t rec-
ommend you to fall in love with him.’
‘I shall not do it then; I shall never fall in love but on your
recommendation. Moreover,’ Isabel added, ‘my cousin gives
me rather a sad account of Lord Warburton.’
‘Oh, indeed? I don’t know what there may be to say, but
you must remember that Ralph must talk.’
‘He thinks your friend’s too subversive—or not subver-
sive enough! I don’t quite understand which,’ said Isabel.
The old man shook his head slowly, smiled and put down
his cup. ‘I don’t know which either. He goes very far, but it’s
quite possible he doesn’t go far enough. He seems to want
to do away with a good many things, but he seems to want
to remain himself. I suppose that’s natural, but rather in-
consistent.’
‘Oh, I hope he’ll remain himself,’ said Isabel. ‘If he were
to be done away with his friends would miss him sadly.’
‘Well,’ said the old man, ‘I guess he’ll stay and amuse his
friends. I should certainly miss him very much here at Gar-
dencourt. He always amuses me when he comes over, and I
think he amuses himself as well. There’s a considerable num-
ber like him, round in society; they’re very fashionable just

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