‘Did you speak to him of Rosier?’

‘Oh yes, a little.’

‘That was hardly necessary.’

‘I thought it best he should know, so that, so that—’ And Isabel paused.

‘So that what?’

‘So that he might act accordingly.’

‘So that he might back out, do you mean?’

‘No, so that he might advance while there’s yet time.’

‘That’s not the effect it seems to have had.’

‘You should have patience,’ said Isabel. ‘You know Englishmen are shy.’

‘This one’s not. He was not when he made love to you.’

She had been afraid Osmond would speak of that; it was disagreeable to her. ‘I beg your pardon; he was extremely so,’ she returned.

He answered nothing for some time; he took up a book and fingered the pages while she sat silent and occupied herself with Pansy’s tapestry. ‘You must have a great deal of influence with him,’ Osmond went on at last. ‘The moment you really wish it you can bring him to the point.’

This was more offensive still; but she felt the great naturalness of his saying it, and it was after all extremely like what she had said to herself. ‘Why should I have influence?’ she asked. ‘What have I ever done to put him under an obligation to me?’

‘You refused to marry him,’ said Osmond with his eyes on his book.

‘I must not presume too much on that,’ she replied.

He threw down the book presently and got up, standing before the fire with his hands behind him. ‘Well, I hold that it lies in your hands. I shall leave it there. With a little good-will you may manage it. Think that over and remember how much I count on you.’ He waited a little, to give her time to answer; but she answered nothing, and he presently strolled out of the room.