VOLUME II
48. CHAPTER XLVIII
(continued)
"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.
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