thought insensible to them, whereas in fact she was simply unwilling to show how infinitely they pleased her. To show that was to show too much. ‘I’m sure the English are very conventional,’ she added.

‘They’ve got everything pretty well fixed,’ Mr Touchett admitted. ‘It’s all settled beforehand—they don’t leave it to the last moment.’

‘I don’t like to have everything settled beforehand,’ said the girl. ‘I like more unexpectedness.’

Her uncle seemed amused at her distinctness of preference. ‘Well, it’s settled beforehand that you’ll have great success,’ he rejoined. ‘I suppose you’ll like that.’

‘I shall not have success if they’re too stupidly conventional. I’m not in the least stupidly conventional. I’m just the contrary. That’s what they won’t like.’

‘No, no, you’re all wrong,’ said the old man. ‘You can’t tell what they’ll like. They’re very inconsistent; that’s their principal interest.’

‘Ah well,’ said Isabel, standing before her uncle with her hands clasped about the belt of her black dress and looking up and down the lawn—‘that will suit me perfectly!’