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are not the best she’s likely to have. Pardon me if my tone
seems horribly corrupt; one must take the worldly view
sometimes. Only don’t keep on refusing for the sake of re-
fusing. It’s a pleasant exercise of power; but accepting’s after
all an exercise of power as well. There’s always the danger
of refusing once too often. It was not the one I fell into—I
didn’t refuse often enough. You’re an exquisite creature, and
I should like to see you married to a prime minister. But
speaking strictly, you know, you’re not what is technically
called a parti. You’re extremely good-looking and extremely
clever; in yourself you’re quite exceptional. You appear to
have the vaguest ideas about your earthly possessions; but
from what I can make out you’re not embarrassed with an
income. I wish you had a little money.’
‘I wish I had!’ said Isabel, simply, apparently forgetting
for the moment that her poverty had been a venial fault for
two gallant gentlemen.
In spite of Sir Matthew Hope’s benevolent recommen-
dation Madame Merle did not remain to the end, as the
issue of poor Mr. Touchett’s malady had now come frank-
ly to be designated. She was under pledges to other people
which had at last to be redeemed, and she left Gardencourt
with the understanding that she should in any event see
Mrs. Touchett there again, or else in town, before quitting
England. Her parting with Isabel was even more like the
beginning of a friendship than their meeting had been. ‘I’m
going to six places in succession, but I shall see no one I
like so well as you. They’ll all be old friends, however; one
doesn’t make new friends at my age. I’ve made a great ex-

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