more attractive to her than she had believed
beforehand that any marriage could be: the dignities, the luxuries, the power of
doing a great deal of what she liked to do, which had now come close to her, and
within her choice to secure or to lose, took hold of her nature as if it had
been the strong odour of what she had only imagined and longed for before. And
Grandcourt himself? He seemed as little of a flaw in his fortunes as a lover and
husband could possibly be. Gwendolen wished to mount the chariot and drive the
plunging horses herself, with a spouse by her side who would fold his arms and
give her his countenance without looking ridiculous. Certainly, with all her
perspicacity, and all the reading which seemed to her mamma dangerously
instructive, her judgment was consciously a little at fault before Grandcourt.
He was adorably quiet and free from absurdities - he would be a husband to suit
with the best appearance a woman could make. But what else was he? He had been
everywhere, and seen everything. That was desirable, and especially gratifying
as a preamble to his supreme preference for Gwendolen Harleth. He did not appear
to enjoy anything much. That was not necessary: and the less he had of
particular tastes or desires, the more freedom his wife was likely to have in
following hers. Gwendolen conceived that after marriage she would most probably
be able to manage him thoroughly.
    How was it that he caused her unusual constraint now? - that she was less
daring and playful in her talk with him than with any other admirer she had
known? That absence of demonstrativeness which she was glad of, acted as a charm
in more senses than one, and was slightly benumbing. Grandcourt after all was
formidable - a handsome lizard of a hitherto unknown species, not of the lively,
darting kind. But Gwendolen knew hardly any thing about lizards, and ignorance
gives one a large range of probabilities. This splendid specimen was probably
gentle, suitable as a boudoir pet: what may not a lizard be, if you know nothing
to the contrary? Her acquaintance with Grandcourt was such that no
accomplishment suddenly revealed in him would have surprised her. And he was so
little suggestive of drama, that it hardly occurred to her to think with any
detail how his life of thirty-six years had been passed: in general, she
imagined him always cold and dignified, not likely ever to have committed
himself. He had hunted the tiger - had he ever been in love or made love? The
one experience and the other seemed alike remote in Gwendolen'