"Don't you like Madame Merle ?" Isabel had once said to him.

"She thinks a great deal of you." "I'll tell you once for all," Osmond had answered.

"I liked her once better than I do to-day.

I'm tired of her, and I'm rather ashamed of it.
She's so almost unnaturally good! I'm glad she's not in Italy; it makes for relaxation--for a sort of moral detente.

Don't talk of her too much; it seems to bring her back.