She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "An excuse? Must I excuse myself?"
He paid, however, no answer to the question.Another idea had come into his head. "Is it my political opinions? Do you think I go too far?"
"I can＇t object to your political opinions, because I don＇t understand them."
"You don＇t care what I think!" he cried, getting up. "It＇s all the same to you."
Isabel walked to the other side of the gallery and stood there showing him her charming back, her light slim 昀gure, the length of her white neck as she bent her head, and the density of her dark braids. She stopped in front of a small picture as if for the purpose of examining it; and there was something so young and free in her movement that her very pliancy seemed to mock at him. Her eyes, however, saw nothing; they had suddenly been suffused with tears. In a moment he followed her, and by this time she had brushed her tears away; but when she turned round her face was pale and the expression of her eyes strange. "That reason that I wouldn＇t tell you—I＇ll tell it you after all. It＇s that I can＇t escape my fate."