"Poor Mr. Ferrier! It was terribly, terribly sad!" Her voice was subtly
tuned and pitched. It made no fresh claim on emotion, of which, in his
mental and moral exhaustion, he had none to give; but it more than met
the decencies of the situation, which Isabel had flouted.
"So there will be another election?" she said, presently, still standing
in front of him, erect and provocative, her eyes fixed on his.
"Yes; but I sha'n't be such a brute as to bother you with it this time."
"I shall decide that for myself," she said, lightly. Then--after a
pause: "So Lord Philip has won!--all along the line! I should like to
know that man!"
"You do know him."
"Oh, just to pass the time of day. That's nothing. But I am to meet him
at the Treshams' next week." Her eyes sparkled a little. Marsham glanced
at his sister, who was gathering up some small possessions at the end of
the room.
"Don't try and make a fool of him!" he said, in a low voice. "He's not
your sort."
"Isn't he?" She laughed. "I suppose he's one of the biggest men in
England now. And somebody told me the other day that, after losing two
or three fortunes, he had just got another.
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