On the appearance of this repast Mrs.Touchett had apparently been notified, for she now arrived and addressed herself to the tea-pot.

Her greeting to her niece did not differ materially from her manner of raising the lid of this receptacle in order to glance at the contents: in neither act was it becoming to make a show of avidity.
Questioned about her husband she was unable to say he was better; but the local doctor was with him, and much light was expected from this gentleman's consultation with Sir Matthew Hope.
"I suppose you two ladies have made acquaintance," she pursued.

"If you haven't I recommend you to do so; for so long as we continue--Ralph and I--to cluster about Mr.Touchett's bed you're not likely to have much society but each other." "I know nothing about you but that you're a great musician," Isabel said to the visitor.
"There's a good deal more than that to know," Mrs.Touchett affirmed in her little dry tone.
"A very little of it, I am sure, will content Miss Archer!" the lady exclaimed with a light laugh.

"I'm an old friend of your aunt's.
I've lived much in Florence.

I'm Madame Merle." She made this last announcement as if she were referring to a person of tolerably distinct identity.