"
"Of great ability?" her friend enquired.
"Of excellent ability, and as good as he looks."
"As good as he's good-looking do you mean? He's very good-looking.
How detestably fortunate!- to be a great English magnate, to be clever
and handsome into the bargain, and, by way of finishing off, to
enjoy your high favour! That's a man I could envy."
Isabel considered him with interest. "You seem to me to be always
envying some one. Yesterday it was the Pope; today it's poor Lord
Warburton."
"My envy's not dangerous; it wouldn't hurt a mouse. I don't want
to destroy the people- I only want to be them. You see it would
destroy only myself."
"You'd like to be the Pope?" said Isabel.
"I should love it- but I should have gone in for it earlier. But
why"- Osmond reverted- "do you speak of your friend as poor?"
"Women- when they are very, very good- sometimes pity men after
they've hurt them; that's their great way of showing kindness," said
Ralph, joining in the conversation for the first time and with a
cynicism so transparently ingenious as to be virtually innocent.
"Pray, have I hurt Lord Warburton?" Isabel asked, raising her
eyebrows as if the idea were perfectly fresh.
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