everything interests me, and I wish to see as much as possible of the inner life."
Isabel did not show this letter to her uncle; but she acquainted him with its purport, and, as she expected, he begged her instantly to assure Miss Stackpole, in his name, that he should be delighted to receive her at Gardencourt. "Though she is a literary lady," he said, "I suppose that, being an American, she won't reproduce me, as that other one did. She has seen others like me."
"She has seen no other so delightful!" Isabel answered; but she was not altogether at ease about Henrietta's reproductive instincts, which belonged to that side of her friend's character which she regarded with least complacency. She wrote to Miss Stackpole, however, that she would be very welcome under Mr. Touchett's roof; and this enterprising young woman lost no time in signifying her intention of arriving. She had gone up to London, and it was from the metropolis that she took the train for the station nearest to Gardencourt, where Isabel and Ralph were in waiting to receive the visitor.
"Shall I love her, or shall I hate her?" asked Ealph, while they stood on the platform, before the advent of the train.
"Whichever you do will matter very little to her," said Isabel. "She doesn't care a straw what men think of her."
"As a man I am bound to dislike her, then. She must be a kind of monster. Is she very ugly?"
"No, she is decidedly pretty."
"A female interviewer—a reporter in petticoats? I am very curious to see her," Ralph declared.
"It is very easy to laugh at her, but it is not easy to be as brave as she."
