Isabel. It’s not for me to diminish your triumph.
Warland. By Jove, I can’t think why Mrs. Raynor didn’t tell me he was coming. A man like that—one doesn’t take him for granted, like the piano-tuner! I wonder I didn’t see it in the papers.
Isabel. Is he grown such a great man?
Warland. Oberville? Great? John Oberville? I’ll tell you what he is—the power behind the throne, the black Pope, the King-maker and all the rest of it. Don’t you read the papers? Of course I’ll never get on if you won’t interest yourself in politics. And to think you might have married that man!
Isabel. And got you your secretaryship!
Warland. Oberville has them all in the hollow of his hand.
Isabel. Well, you’ll see him at five o’clock.
Warland. I don’t suppose he’s ever heard of me, worse luck! (A silence.) Isabel, look here. I never ask questions, do I? But it was so long ago—and Oberville almost belongs to history—he will one of these days at any rate. Just tell me—did he want to marry you?
Isabel. Since you answer for his immortality—(after a pause) I was very much in love with him.
Warland. Then of course he did. (Another pause.) But what in the world—