‘What’s the matter with him?’ Lord Warburton enquired. ‘He seems very harmless.’
‘He hasn’t money enough, and he isn’t very clever.’
Lord Warburton listened with interest; he seemed struck with this account of Edward Rosier. ‘Dear me; he looked a well-set-up young fellow.’
‘So he is, but my husband’s very particular.’
‘Oh, I see.’ And Lord Warburton paused a moment. ‘How much money has he got?’ he then ventured to ask.
‘Some forty thousand francs a year.’
‘Sixteen hundred pounds? Ah, but that’s very good, you know.’
‘So I think. My husband, however, has larger ideas.’
‘Yes; I’ve noticed that your husband has very large ideas. Is he really an idiot, the young man?’
‘An idiot? Not in the least; he’s charming. When he was twelve years old I myself was in love with him.’
‘He doesn’t look much more than twelve to-day,’ Lord Warburton rejoined vaguely, looking about him. Then with more point, ‘Don’t you think we might sit here?’ he asked.
‘Wherever you please.’ The room was a sort of boudoir, pervaded by a subdued, rose-coloured light; a lady and gentleman moved out of it as our friends came in. ‘It’s very kind of you to take such an interest in Mr Rosier,’ Isabel said.
‘He seems to me rather ill-treated. He had a face a yard long. I wondered what ailed him.’
‘You’re a just man,’ said Isabel. ‘You’ve a kind thought even for a rival.’
Lord Warburton suddenly turned with a stare. ‘A rival! Do you call him my rival?’
‘Surely—if you both wish to marry the same person.’
‘Yes—but since he has no chance!’
‘I like you, however that may be, for putting yourself in his place. It shows imagination.’
‘You like me for it?’ And Lord Warburton looked at her with an uncertain eye. ‘I think you mean you’re laughing at me for it.’
‘Yes, I’m laughing at you a little. But I like you as somebody to laugh at.’
‘Ah well, then, let me enter into his situation a little more. What do you suppose one could do for him?’
‘Since I have been praising your imagination I’ll leave you to imagine that yourself,’ Isabel said. ‘Pansy too would like you for that.’
‘Miss Osmond? Ah, she, I flatter myself, likes me already.’
‘Very much, I think.’
He waited a little; he was still questioning her face. ‘Well then, I don’t understand you. You don’t mean that she cares for him?’