"So I have had to admit to Mr. Rosier. So, too, your husband thinks."
"That I don't know."
"Ask him, and you will see."
"I shall not ask him," said Isabel.
"Excuse me; I forgot that you had pointed that out. Of course," Madame Merle added, "you have 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 step-daughter very much."
Madame Merle gave one of her quick looks again. "Likes her, you mean—as Mr. Rosier means?"
"I don't know how Mr. Rosier means; but Lord Warburton has let me know that he is charmed with Pansy."
"And you have never told Osmond?" This observation was immediate, precipitate; it almost burst from Madame Merle's lips.
Isabel smiled a little. "I suppose he will know in time; Lord Warburton has a tongue, and knows how to express himself."
Madame Merle instantly became conscious that she had spoken more quickly than usual, and the reflection brought the colour to her cheek. She gave the treacherous impulse time to subside, and then she said, as if she had been thinking it over a little: "That would be better than marrying poor Mr. Rosier. "
"Much better, I think."
"It would be very delightful; it would be a great marriage. It is really very kind of him."
Very kind of him?"
"To drop his eyes on a simple little girl."
"I don't see that."
"It's very good of you. But after all, Pansy Osmond———"
