There was something between them, Isabel said to herself, but she said nothing more than this.

If it were something of importance it should inspire respect; if it were not it was not worth her curiosity.

With all her love of knowledge she had a natural shrinking from raising curtains and looking into unlighted corners.

The love of knowledge coexisted in her mind with the finest capacity for ignorance.
But Madame Merle sometimes said things that startled her, made her raise her clear eyebrows at the time and think of the words afterwards.

"I'd give a great deal to be your age again," she broke out once with a bitterness which, though diluted in her customary amplitude of ease, was imperfectly disguised by it.