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ask of you.’
‘A beginning of what?’
Madame Merle was silent a little. ‘I want you of course
to marry her.’
‘The beginning of the end? Well, I’ll see for myself. Have
you told her that?’
‘For what do you take me? She’s not so coarse a piece of
machinery—nor am I.’
‘Really,’ said Osmond after some meditation, ‘I don’t un-
derstand your ambitions.’
‘I think you’ll understand this one after you’ve seen Miss
Archer. Suspend your judgement.’ Madame Merle, as she
spoke, had drawn near the open door of the garden, where
she stood a moment looking out. ‘Pansy has really grown
pretty,’ she presently added.
‘So it seemed to me.’
‘But she has had enough of the convent.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Osmond. ‘I like what they’ve made of
her. It’s very charming.’
‘That’s not the convent. It’s the child’s nature.’
‘It’s the combination, I think. She’s as pure as a pearl.’
‘Why doesn’t she come back with my flowers then?’ Ma-
dame Merle asked. ‘She’s not in a hurry.’
‘We’ll go and get them.’
‘She doesn’t like me,’ the visitor murmured as she raised
her parasol and they passed into the garden.

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