“Why should he dissimulate? That’s not his nature.”
“Ah, you must remember that the circumstances are peculiar,” said Ralph with an air of private amusement.
“To a certain extent—yes. But is he really in love?”
“Very much, I think. I can make that out.”
“Ah!” said Isabel with a certain dryness.
Ralph looked at her as if his mild hilarity had been touched with mystification. “You say that as if you were disappointed.”
Isabel got up, slowly smoothing her gloves and eyeing them thoughtfully. “It’s after all no business of mine.”
“You’re very philosophic,” said her cousin. And then in a moment: “May I enquire what you’re talking about?”
Isabel stared. “I thought you knew. Lord Warburton tells me he wants, of all things in the world, to marry Pansy. I’ve told you that before, without eliciting a comment from you. You might risk one this morning, I think. Is it your belief that he really cares for her?”
“Ah, for Pansy, no!” cried Ralph very positively.