"That's partly why I've not spoken to you about this business of
my daughter's," Osmond said, designating Pansy in the manner that
was most frequent with him. "I was afraid I should encounter
opposition-that you too would have views on the subject. I've sent
little Rosier about his business."
"You were afraid I'd plead for Mr. Rosier? Haven't you noticed
that I've never spoken to you of him?"
"I've never given you a chance. We've so little conversation in
these days. I know he was an old friend of yours."
"Yes; he's an old friend of mine." Isabel cared little more for
him than for the tapestry that she held in her hand; but it was true
that he was an old friend and that with her husband she felt a
desire not to extenuate such ties. He had a way of expressing contempt
for them which fortified her loyalty to them, even when, as in the
present case, they were in themselves insignificant. She sometimes
felt a sort of passion of tenderness for memories which had no other
merit than that they belonged to her unmarried life. "But as regards
Pansy," she added in a moment, "I've given him no encouragement."
"That's fortunate," Osmond observed.
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