Caspar, however, remained sternly grave. "I guess she'll come out," he said.
"On purpose to scold me?"
"I don't know. She seemed to think she had not seen Europe thoroughly."
"I am glad you tell me that," Isabel said. "I must prepare for her."
Mr. Goodwood fixed his eyes for a moment on the floor; then at last, raising them—"Does she know Mr. Osmond?" he asked.
"A little. And she doesn't like him. But of course I don't marry to please Henrietta," Isabel added.
It would have been better for poor Caspar if she had tried a little more to gratify Miss Stackpole; but he did not say so; he only asked, presently, when her marriage would take place.
"I don't know yet. I can only say it will be soon. I have told no one but yourself and one other person—an old friend of Mr. Osmond's."
"Is it a marriage your friends won't like?" Caspar Goodwood asked.
"I really haven't an idea. As I say, I don't marry for my friends."
He went on, making no exclamation, no comment, only asking questions.
"What is Mr. Osmond?"
"What is he? Nothing at all but a very good man. He is not in business," said Isabel. "He is not rich; he is 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.
