I think we have been everywhere.' 'A beautiful country!' 'I suppose it is.

Everybody says so.' 'Your cousin Feenix raves about it, Edith,' interposed her mother from her couch.
The daughter slightly turned her graceful head, and raising her eyebrows by a hair's-breadth, as if her cousin Feenix were of all the mortal world the least to be regarded, turned her eyes again towards Mr Dombey.
'I hope, for the credit of my good taste, that I am tired of the neighbourhood,' she said.
'You have almost reason to be, Madam,' he replied, glancing at a variety of landscape drawings, of which he had already recognised several as representing neighbouring points of view, and which were strewn abundantly about the room, 'if these beautiful productions are from your hand.' She gave him no reply, but sat in a disdainful beauty, quite amazing.
'Have they that interest ?' said Mr Dombey.

'Are they yours ?' 'Yes.' 'And you play, I already know.' 'Yes.' 'And sing ?' 'Yes.' She answered all these questions with a strange reluctance; and with that remarkable air of opposition to herself, already noticed as belonging to her beauty.

Yet she was not embarrassed, but wholly self-possessed.

Neither did she seem to wish to avoid the conversation, for she addressed her face, and--so far as she could--her manner also, to him; and continued to do so, when he was silent.
'You have many resources against weariness at least,' said Mr Dombey.
'Whatever their efficiency may be,' she returned, 'you know them all now.