‘She’s very accommodating! I knew she was fond of Isabel, but I didn’t know she carried it so far.’

‘I don’t understand you,’ said Henrietta coldly, and reflecting that the Countess was unpleasantly perverse. ‘I really must stick to my point—that Isabel never encouraged the attentions of Lord Warburton.’

‘My dear friend, what do you and I know about it? All we know is that my brother’s capable of everything.’

‘I don’t know what your brother’s capable of,’ said Henrietta with dignity.

‘It’s not her encouraging Warburton that I complain of; it’s her sending him away. I want particularly to see him. Do you suppose she thought I would make him faithless?’ the Countess continued with audacious insistence. ‘However, she’s only keeping him, one can feel that. The house is full of him there; he’s quite in the air. Oh yes, he has left traces; I’m sure I shall see him yet.’

‘Well,’ said Henrietta after a little, with one of those inspirations which had made the fortune of her letters to the Interviewer, ‘perhaps he’ll be more successful with you than with Isabel!’

When she told her friend of the offer she had made Ralph Isabel replied that she could have done nothing that would have pleased her more. It had always been her faith that at bottom Ralph and this young woman were made to understand each other. ‘I don’t care whether he understands me or not,’ Henrietta declared. ‘The great thing is that he shouldn’t die in the cars.’

‘He won’t do that,’ Isabel said, shaking her head with an extension of faith.

‘He won’t if I can help it. I see you want us all to go. I don’t know what you want to do.’

‘I want to be alone,’ said Isabel.

‘You won’t be that so long as you’ve so much company at home.’

‘Ah, they’re part of the comedy. You others are spectators.’

‘Do you call it a comedy, Isabel Archer?’ Henrietta rather grimly asked.

‘The tragedy then if you like. You’re all looking at me; it makes me uncomfortable.’

Henrietta engaged in this act for a while. ‘You’re like the stricken deer, seeking the innermost shade. Oh, you do give me such a sense of helplessness!’ she broke out.

‘I’m not at all helpless. There are many things I mean to do.’

‘It’s not you I’m speaking of; it’s myself. It’s too much, having come on purpose, to leave you just as I find you.’

‘You don’t do that; you leave me much refreshed,’ Isabel said.

‘Very mild refreshment—sour lemonade! I want you to promise me something.’

‘I can’t do that. I shall never make another promise. I made such a solemn one four years ago, and I’ve succeeded so ill in keeping it.’

‘You’ve had no encouragement. In this case I should give you the greatest. Leave your husband before the worst comes; that’s what I want you to promise.’

‘The worst? What do you call the worst?’

‘Before your character gets spoiled.’