His jaw
showed the same voluntary cast as in earlier days; but a crisis like
the present had in it of course something grim. He had the air of a
man who had travelled hard; he said nothing at first, as if he had
been out of breath. This gave Isabel time to make a reflexion: "Poor
fellow, what great things he's capable of, and what a pity he should
waste so dreadfully his splendid force! What a pity too that one can't
satisfy everybody!" It gave her time to do more-to say at the end of a
minute: "I can't tell you how I hoped you wouldn't come!"
"I've no doubt of that." And he looked about him for a seat. Not
only had he come, but he meant to settle.
"You must be very tired," said Isabel, seating herself, and
generously, as she thought, to give him his opportunity.
"No, I'm not at all tired. Did you ever know me to be tired?"
"Never; I wish I had! When did you arrive?"
"Last night, very late; in a kind of snail-train they call the
express. These Italian trains go at about the rate of an American
funeral."
"That's in keeping- you must have felt as if you were coming to bury
me!" And she forced a smile of encouragement to an easy view of
their situation.
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