"It serves him right if you have," said Henrietta while the
curtain rose for the ballet.
Isabel saw no more of her attributive victim for the next
twenty-four hours, but on the second day after the visit to the
opera she encountered him in the gallery of the Capitol, where he
stood before the lion of the collection, the statue of the Dying
Gladiator. She had come in with her companions, among whom, on this
occasion again, Gilbert Osmond had his place, and the party, having
ascended the staircase, entered the first and finest of the rooms.
Lord Warburton addressed her alertly enough, but said in a moment that
he was leaving the gallery. "And I'm leaving Rome," he added. "I
must bid you good-bye." Isabel, inconsequently enough, was now sorry
to hear it. This was perhaps because she had ceased to be afraid of
his renewing his suit; she was thinking of something else. She was
on the point of naming her regret, but she checked herself and
simply wished him a happy journey; which made him look at her rather
unlightedly. "I'm afraid you'll think me very 'volatile.' I told you
the other day I wanted so much to stop."
"Oh no; you could easily change your mind.
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