For a moment he said nothing more. “You’ll like it,” he went on at last. “They’ve spoiled it, but you’ll rave about it.”
“Ought I to dislike it because, poor old dear—the Niobe of Nations, you know—it has been spoiled?” she asked.
“No, I think not. It has been spoiled so often,” he smiled. “If I were to go, what should I do with my little girl?”
“Can’t you leave her at the villa?”
“I don’t know that I like that—though there’s a very good old woman who looks after her. I can’t afford a governess.”
“Bring her with you then,” said Isabel promptly.
Mr. Osmond looked grave. “She has been in Rome all winter, at her convent; and she’s too young to make journeys of pleasure.”
“You don’t like bringing her forward?” Isabel enquired.
“No, I think young girls should be kept out of the world.”
“I was brought up on a different system.”