There was always a little of the
doll about her, and that was not what he had been looking for.
Still, who could say what men ever were looking for? They looked for
what they found; they knew what pleased them only when they saw it. No
theory was valid in such matters, and nothing was more unaccountable
or more natural than anything else. If he had cared for her it might
seem odd he should care for Pansy, who was so different; but he had
not cared for her so much as he had supposed. Or if he had, he had
completely got over it, and it was natural that, as that affair had
failed, he should think something of quite another sort might succeed.
Enthusiasm, as I say, had not come at first to Isabel, but it came
to-day and made her feel almost happy. It was astonishing what
happiness she could still find in the idea of procuring a pleasure for
her husband. It was a pity, however, that Edward Rosier had crossed
their path!
At this reflection the light that had suddenly gleamed upon that
path lost something of its brightness. Isabel was unfortunately as
sure that Pansy thought Mr. Rosier the nicest of all the young men
sure as if she had held an interview with her on the subject.
Pages:
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726