"You know, if you don't like
Lockleigh- if you think it's damp or anything of that sort- you need
never go within fifty miles of it. It's not damp, by the way; I've had
the house thoroughly examined; it's perfectly safe and right. But if
you shouldn't fancy it you needn't dream of living in it. There's no
difficulty whatever about that; there are plenty of houses. I
thought I'd just mention it; some people don't like a moat, you
know. Good-bye."
"I adore a moat," said Isabel. "Good-bye."
He held out his hand, and she gave him hers a moment- a moment
long enough for him to bend his handsome bared head and kiss it. Then,
still agitating, in his mastered emotion, his implement of the
chase, he walked rapidly away. He was evidently much upset.
Isabel herself was upset, but she had not been affected as she would
have imagined. What she felt was not a great responsibility, a great
difficulty of choice; it appeared to her there had been no choice in
the question. She couldn't marry Lord Warburton; the idea failed to
support any enlightened prejudice in favour of the free exploration of
life that she had hitherto entertained or was now capable of
entertaining.
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