As I say, I don't marry for my friends."
He went on, making no exclamation, no comment, only asking
questions, doing it quite without delicacy. "Who and what then is
Mr. Gilbert Osmond?"
"Who and what? Nobody and nothing but a very good and very
honourable man. He's not in business," said Isabel. "He's not rich;
he's not known for anything in particular."
She disliked Mr. Goodwood's questions, but she said to herself
that she owed it to him to satisfy him as far as possible. The
satisfaction poor Caspar exhibited was, however, small; he sat very
upright, gazing at her. "Where does he come from? Where does he
belong?"
She had never been so little pleased with the way he said "belawng."
"He comes from nowhere. He has spent most of his life in Italy."
"You said in your letter he was American. Hasn't he a native place?"
"Yes, but he has forgotten it. He left it as a small boy."
"Has he never gone back?"
"Why should he go back?" Isabel asked, flushing all defensively. "He
has no profession."
"He might have gone back for his pleasure. Doesn't he like the
United States?"
"He doesn't know them. Then he's very quiet and very simple-he
contents himself with Italy.
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