"You'll have every opportunity of turning him
inside out."
"Well, he may do for one letter, but what's one letter when you want
to write fifty? I've described all the scenery in this vicinity and
raved about all the old women and donkeys. You may say what you
please, scenery doesn't make a vital letter. I must go back to
London and get some impressions of real life. I was there but three
days before I came away, and that's hardly time to get in touch."
As Isabel, on her journey from New York to Gardencourt, had seen
even less of the British capital than this, it appeared a happy
suggestion of Henrietta's that the two should go thither on a visit of
pleasure. The idea struck Isabel as charming; she was curious of the
thick detail of London, which had always loomed large and rich to her.
They turned over their schemes together and indulged in visions of
romantic hours. They would stay at some picturesque old inn- one of
the inns described by Dickens- and drive over the town in those
delightful hansoms. Henrietta was a literary woman, and the great
advantage of being a literary woman was that you could go everywhere
and do everything.
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