"
"Lord Warburton's a great radical," Isabel said. "He has very
advanced opinions."
"He has very advanced stone walls. His park's enclosed by a gigantic
iron fence, some thirty miles round," Henrietta announced for the
information of Mr. Osmond. "I should like him to converse with a few
of our Boston radicals."
"Don't they approve of iron fences?" asked Mr. Bantling.
"Only to shut up wicked conservatives. I always feel as if I were
talking to you over something with a neat top-finish of broken glass."
"Do you know him well, this unreformed reformer?" Osmond went on,
questioning Isabel.
"Well enough for all the use I have for him."
"And how much of a use is that?"
"Well, I like to like him."
"'Liking to like'- why, it makes a passion!" said Osmond.
"No"- she considered- "keep that for liking to dislike."
"Do you wish to provoke me then," Osmond laughed, "to a passion
for him?"
She said nothing for a moment, but then met the light question
with a disproportionate gravity. "No, Mr. Osmond; I don't think I
should ever dare to provoke you. Lord Warburton, at any rate," she
more easily added, "is a very nice man.
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