that afresh, whenever I come back; I know none better anywhere. You understand this sort of thing as no one else does."
"I am very sick of it," said Osmond.
"You must let Miss Archer come and see all this. I have told her about it."
"I don't object to showing my things—when people are not idiots."
"You do it delightfully. As a cicerone in your own museum you appear to particular advantage."
Mr. Osmond, in return for this compliment, simply turned upon his companion an eye expressive of perfect clairvoyance.
"Did you say she was rich?" he asked in a moment.
"She has seventy thousand pounds."
"En écus bien comptés?"
"There is no doubt whatever about her fortune. I have seen it, as I may say."
"Satisfactory woman!—I mean you. And if I go to see her, shall I see the mother?"
"The mother? She has none—nor father either."
"The aunt then; whom did you say?—Mrs. Touchett."
"I can easily keep her out of the way."
"I don't object to her," said Osmond; "I rather like Mrs. Touchett. She has a sort of old-fashioned character that is passing away—a vivid identity. But that long jackanapes, the son—is he about the place?"
"He is there, but he won't trouble you."
"He's an awful ass."
"I think you are mistaken. He is a very clever man. But he is not fond of being about when I am there, because he doesn't like me."
