Isabel had quite taken her place in the class so designated, which, for the rest, included the old man's son, his physician, his personal servant, and even Miss Stackpole.

Mrs.Touchett did not figure in the list, and this was an obstacle the less to Isabel's finding her host alone.

He sat in a complicated mechanical chair, at the open window of his room, looking westward over the park and the river, with his newspapers and letters piled up beside him, his toilet freshly and minutely made, and his smooth, speculative face composed to benevolent expectation.
She approached her point directly.

"I think I ought to let you know that Lord Warburton has asked me to marry him.

I suppose I ought to tell my aunt; but it seems best to tell you first." The old man expressed no surprise, but thanked her for the confidence she showed him.