“You want to drain the cup of experience.”
“No, I don’t wish to touch the cup of experience. It’s a poisoned drink! I only want to see for myself.”
“You want to see, but not to feel,” Ralph remarked.
“I don’t think that if one’s a sentient being one can make the distinction. I’m a good deal like Henrietta. The other day when I asked her if she wished to marry she said: ‘Not till I’ve seen Europe!’ I too don’t wish to marry till I’ve seen Europe.”
“You evidently expect a crowned head will be struck with you.”
“No, that would be worse than marrying Lord Warburton. But it’s getting very dark,” Isabel continued, “and I must go home.” She rose from her place, but Ralph only sat still and looked at her. As he remained there she stopped, and they exchanged a gaze that was full on either side, but especially on Ralph’s, of utterances too vague for words.
“You’ve answered my question,” he said at last. “You’ve told me what I wanted. I’m greatly obliged to you.”
“It seems to me I’ve told you very little.”
“You’ve told me the great thing: that the world interests you and that you want to throw yourself into it.”
Her silvery eyes shone a moment in the dusk. “I never said that.”