Madame Merle observed her as she passed and while she stood a moment
before the mantel-glass and pushed into its place a wandering tress of
hair.
"Poor Mr. Rosier keeps saying there's nothing impossible in Lord
Warburton's falling in love with Pansy," Madame Merle went on.
Isabel was silent a little; she turned away from the glass.
"It's true-there's nothing impossible," she returned at last,
gravely and more gently.
"So I've had to admit to Mr. Rosier. So, too, your husband thinks."
"That I don't know."
"Ask him and you'll see."
"I shall not ask him," said Isabel.
"Pardon me; I forgot you had pointed that out. Of course," Madame
Merle added, "you've had infinitely more observation of Lord
Warburton's behaviour than I."
"I see no reason why I shouldn't tell you that he likes my
stepdaughter very much."
Madame Merle gave one of her quick looks again. "Likes her, you
mean-Mr. Rosier means?"
"I don't know how Mr. Rosier means; but Lord Warburton has let me
know that he's charmed with Pansy."
"And you've never told Osmond?" This observation was immediate,
precipitate; it almost burst from Madame Merle's lips.
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