She wondered if her aunt repented of having taken her own way so much; but there was no visible evidence of this--no tears, no sighs, no exaggeration of a zeal always to its own sense adequate.

Mrs.
Touchett seemed simply to feel the need of thinking things over and summing them up; she had a little moral account-book--with columns unerringly ruled and a sharp steel clasp--which she kept with exemplary neatness.

Uttered reflection had with her ever, at any rate, a practical ring.

"If I had foreseen this I'd not have proposed your coming abroad now," she said to Isabel after Madame Merle had left the house.

"I'd have waited and sent for you next year." "So that perhaps I should never have known my uncle?
It's a great happiness to me to have come now." "That's very well.