Oberville. Beggars never say that to each other.
Isabel. No; never, unless it’s true.
Oberville (after another silence). Why do you look at me so curiously?
Isabel. I’m—what was it you said? Approving you as a dilettante. Don’t be alarmed; you can bear examination; I don’t see a crack anywhere. After all, it’s a satisfaction to find that one’s idol makes a handsome bibelot.
Oberville (with an attempt at lightness). I was right then—you’re a collector?
Isabel (modestly). One must make a beginning. I think I shall begin with you. (She smiles at him.) Positively, I must have you on my mantel-shelf! (She rises and looks at the clock.) But it’s time to dress for dinner. (She holds out her hand to him and he kisses it. They look at each other, and it is clear that he does not quite understand, but is watching eagerly for his cue.)
Warland (coming in). Hullo, Isabel—you’re here after all?
Isabel. And so is Mr. Oberville. (She looks straight at Warland.) I stayed in on purpose to meet him. My husband—(The two men bow.)
Warland (effusively). So glad to meet you. My wife talks of you so often. She’s been looking forward tremendously to your visit.
Oberville. It’s a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Warland.