"Yes," said the girl; "I think that would not do much towards making her resemble me!"
After she had left Florence, Gilbert Osmond met Madame Merle at the Countess Gemini's. There were other people present; the Countess's drawing-room was usually well filled, and the talk had been general; but after a while Osmond left his place and came and sat on an ottoman half-behind, half-beside, Madame Merle's chair.
"She wants me to go to Rome with her," he announced, in a low voice.
"To go with her?"
"To be there while she is there. She proposed it."
"I suppose you mean that you proposed it, and that she assented."
"Of course I gave her a chance. But she is encouraging—she is very encouraging."
"I am glad to hear it—but don't cry victory too soon. Of course you will go to Rome."
"Ah," said Osmond, "it makes one work, this idea of yours!"
"Don't pretend you don't enjoy it—you are very ungrateful. You have not been so well occupied these many years."
"The way you take it is beautiful," said Osmond. "I ought to be grateful for that."
"Not too much so, however," Madame Merle answered. She talked with her usual smile, leaning back in her chair, and looking round the room. "You have made a very good impression, and I have seen for myself that you have received one. You have not come to Mrs. Touchett's seven times to oblige me."
"The girl is not disagreeable," Osmond quietly remarked.
