“He’s dying for a little encouragement. I see his face now, and his earnest absorbed look while I talked. I never saw an ugly man look so handsome.”
“He’s very simple-minded,” said Isabel. “And he’s not so ugly.”
“There’s nothing so simplifying as a grand passion.”
“It’s not a grand passion; I’m very sure it’s not that.”
“You don’t say that as if you were sure.”
Isabel gave rather a cold smile. “I shall say it better to Mr. Goodwood himself.”
“He’ll soon give you a chance,” said Henrietta. Isabel offered no answer to this assertion, which her companion made with an air of great confidence. “He’ll find you changed,” the latter pursued. “You’ve been affected by your new surroundings.”
“Very likely. I’m affected by everything.”
“By everything but Mr. Goodwood!” Miss Stackpole exclaimed with a slightly harsh hilarity.
Isabel failed even to smile back and in a moment she said: “Did he ask you to speak to me?”