n. Then my
wife and I do so many things together. We read, we study, we make music,
we walk, we drive--we talk even, as when we first knew each other. I
delight, to this hour, in my wife's conversation. If you're ever bored
take my advice and get married. Your wife indeed may bore you, in that
case; but you'll never bore yourself. You'll always have something to
say to yourself--always have a subject of reflection."

"I'm not bored," said Goodwood. "I've plenty to think about and to say
to myself."

"More than to say to others!" Osmond exclaimed with a light laugh.
"Where shall you go next? I mean after you've consigned Touchett to his
natural caretakers--I believe his mother's at last coming back to look
after him. That little lady's superb; she neglects her duties with a
finish--! Perhaps you'll spend the summer in England?"

"I don't know. I've no plans."

"Happy man! That's a little bleak, but it's very free."

"Oh yes, I'm very free."

"Free to come back to Rome I hope," said Osmond as he saw a group of
new visitors enter the room. "Remember that when you do come we count on
you!"

Goodwood had meant to go away early, but the evening elapsed without
his having a chance to speak to Isabel otherwise than as one of several
associated interlocutors. There was something perverse in the inveteracy
with which she avoided him; his unquenchable rancour discovered an
intention where there was certainly no appearance of one. There was
absolutely no appearance of one. She met his eyes with her clear
hospitable smile, which seemed almost to ask that he would come and help
her to entertain some of her visitors. To such suggestions, however, he
opposed but a stiff impatience. He wandered about and waited; he talked
to the few people he knew, who found him for the first time rather
self-contradictory. This was indeed rare with Caspar Goodwood, though he
often contradicted others. There was often music at Palazzo Roccanera,
and it was usually very good. Under cover of the music he managed to
contain himself; but toward the end, when he saw the people beginning to
go, he drew near to Isabel and asked her in a low tone if he might
not speak to her in one of the other rooms, which he had just assured
himself was empty. She smiled as if she wished to oblige him but found
her self absolutely prevented. "I'm afraid it's impossible. People are
saying good-night, and I must be where they can see me."

"I shall wait till they are