and a little boy.

"And a courier?" said Mrs. Costello. "Oh yes, I have observed them.
Seen them--heard them--and kept out of their way." Mrs. Costello was
a widow with a fortune; a person of much distinction, who frequently
intimated that, if she were not so dreadfully liable to sick headaches,
she would probably have left a deeper impress upon her time. She had a long,
pale face, a high nose, and a great deal of very striking white hair,
which she wore in large puffs and rouleaux over the top of her head.
She had two sons married in New York and another who was now in Europe.
This young man was amusing himself at Hamburg, and, though he was
on his travels, was rarely perceived to visit any particular city
at the moment selected by his mother for her own appearance there.
Her nephew, who had come up to Vevey expressly to see her, was therefore
more attentive than those who, as she said, were nearer to her.
He had imbibed at Geneva the idea that one must always be attentive
to one's aunt. Mrs. Costello had not seen him for many years,
and she was greatly pleased with him, manifesting her approbation
by initiating him into many of the secrets of that social sway which,
as she gave him to understand, she exerted in the American capital.
She admitted that she was very exclusive; but, if he were acquainted with
New York, he would see that one had to be. And her picture of the minutely
hierarchical constitution of the society of that city, which she presented
to him in many different lights, was, to Winterbourne's imagination,
almost oppressively striking.

He immediately perceived, from her tone, that Miss Daisy Miller's
place in the social scale was low. "I am afraid you don't approve
of them," he said.