"Anything else?"
"He said that if you did go he would look after you."
She sat looking at him in silence.
"And—why not?" she said at last, as he said nothing more.
"Others have—looked after you."
Her face did not change.
"Doesn't he know it?" she said.
"And he isn't like—others."
"I know what he is like."
When she said that, Isaacson hated her, hated her for her woman's power of understanding, and, through her understanding, of governing men.