The free, keen girl had become quite another person; what he saw was the fine lady who was supposed to represent something.

What did Isabel represent?
Ralph asked himself; and he could only answer by saying that she represented Gilbert Osmond.
"Good heavens, what a function!" he then woefully exclaimed.

He was lost in wonder at the mystery of things.
He recognised Osmond, as I say; he recognised him at every turn.

He saw how he kept all things within limits; how he adjusted, regulated, animated their manner of life.

Osmond was in his element; at last he had material to work with.