"
Isabel got up, slowly smoothing her gloves and eyeing them
thoughtfully.
"It's after all no business of mine."
"You're very philosophic," said her cousin. And then in a moment:
"May I enquire what you're talking about?"
Isabel stared. "I thought you knew. Lord Warburton tells me he
wants, of all things in the world, to marry Pansy. I've told you
that before, without eliciting a comment from you. You might risk
one this morning, I think. Is it your belief that he really cares
for her?"
"Ah, for Pansy, no!" cried Ralph very positively.
"But you said just now he did."
Ralph waited a moment. "That he cared for you, Mrs. Osmond."
Isabel shook her head gravely. "That's nonsense, you know."
"Of course it is. But the nonsense is Warburton's, not mine."
"That would be very tiresome." She spoke, as she flattered
herself, with much subtlety.
"I ought to tell you indeed," Ralph went on, "that to me he has
denied it."
"It's very good of you to talk about it together! Has he also told
you that he's in love with Pansy?"
"He has spoken very well of her-very properly. He has let me know,
of course, that he thinks she would do very well at Lockleigh.
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