"That's the second time you have said that to me," her aunt rejoined. "And yet you don't look at all stupid."
"I am not stupid: but I don't know anything about money."
"Yes, that's the way you were brought up—as if you were to inherit a million. In point of fact, what have you inherited?"
"I really can't tell you. You must ask Edmund and Lilian; they will be back in half-an-hour."
"In Florence we should call it a very bad house," said Mrs. Touchett; "but here, I suspect, it will bring a high price. It ought to make a considerable sum for each of you. In addition to that, you must have something else; it's most extraordinary your not knowing. The position is of value, and they will probably pull it down and make a row of shops. I wonder you don't do that yourself; you might let the shops to great advantage."
Isabel stared; the idea of letting shops was new to her.
"I hope they won't pull it down," she said; "I am extremely fond of it."
"I don't see what makes you fond of it; your father died here."
"Yes; but I don't dislike it for that," said the girl, rather strangely. "I like places in which things have happened—even if they are sad things. A great many people have died here; the place has been full of life."
"Is that what you call being full of life?"
"I mean full of experience—of people's feelings and sorrows. And not of their sorrows only, for I have been very happy here as a child."
"You should go to Florence if you like houses in which things have happened—especially deaths. I live in an old palace in
