It was what she was doing for Osmond; it was what one had to do for Osmond!
Ralph never said a word against him, but Osmond's sore, mute protest was none the less founded.
Osmond would do nothing to help it by beginning first; he would put that burden upon her to the end.
He tried and tried again to make her betray Osmond; he felt cold-blooded, cruel, dishonourable almost, in doing so.
Ralph was certain that this was her situation; he knew by instinct, in advance, the form that in such an event Osmond's displeasure would take.
That appeared to make the whole future hideous. To break with Osmond once would be to break for ever; any open acknowledgement of irreconcilable needs would be an admission that their whole attempt had proved a failure.
That knowledge was very present to her as she went to her cousin's hotel the day after she had invited Lord Warburton to give a tangible proof of his sincerity; and at this moment, as at others, she had a sufficient perception of the sources of Osmond's opposition.
It relieved this friend of a heavy responsibility. Pansy had a sufficient illumination of her own, and Isabel felt that she herself just now had no light to spare from her small stock. Nevertheless it still clung to her that she must be loyal to Osmond, that she was on her honour in dealing with his daughter.