CHAPTER XXI.
Mrs.Touchett, before arriving in Paris, had fixed the day for her departure and by the middle of February had begun to travel southward.
She interrupted her journey to pay a visit to her son, who at San Remo, on the Italian shore of the Mediterranean, had been spending a dull, bright winter beneath a slow-moving white umbrella.

Isabel went with her aunt as a matter of course, though Mrs.Touchett, with homely, customary logic, had laid before her a pair of alternatives.
"Now, of course, you're completely your own mistress and are as free as the bird on the bough.

I don't mean you were not so before, but you're at present on a different footing--property erects a kind of barrier.
You can do a great many things if you're rich which would be severely criticised if you were poor.

You can go and come, you can travel alone, you can have your own establishment: I mean of course if you'll take a companion--some decayed gentlewoman, with a darned cashmere and dyed hair, who paints on velvet.

You don't think you'd like that?
Of course you can do as you please; I only want you to understand how much you're at liberty.