'll take it.«
    »No, I'll not pretend I'm sure.«
    »Voilà.« And she waited a moment. »I wish you'd tell me about her.«
    »Oh,« said Strether with a slightly strained smile, »all that need concern
you about her is that she's really a grand person.«
    Madame de Vionnet seemed to demur. »Is that all that need concern me about
her?«
    But Strether neglected the question. »Hasn't Chad talked to you?«
    »Of his mother? Yes, a great deal - immensely. But not from your point of
view.«
    »He can't,« our friend returned, »have said any ill of her.«
    »Not the least bit. He has given me, like you, the assurance that she's
really grand. But her being really grand is somehow just what hasn't seemed to
simplify our case. Nothing,« she continued, »is further from me than to wish to
say a word against her; but of course I feel how little she can like being told
of her owing me anything. No woman ever enjoys such an obligation to another
woman.«
    This was a proposition Strether couldn't contradict. »And yet what other way
could I have expressed to her what I felt? It's what there was most to say about
you.«
    »Do you mean then that she will be good to me?«
    »It's what I'm waiting to see. But I've little doubt she would,« he added,
»if she could comfortably see you.«
    It seemed to strike her as a happy, a beneficent thought. »Oh then couldn't
that be managed? Wouldn't she come out? Wouldn't she if you so put it to her?
Did you by any possibility?« she faintly quavered.
    »Oh no« - he was prompt. »Not that. It would be, much more, to give an
account of you that - since there's no question of your paying the visit - I
should go home first.«
    It instantly made her graver. »And are you thinking of that?«
    »Oh all the while, naturally.«
    »Stay with us - stay with us!« she exclaimed on this. »That's your only way
to make sure.«
    »To make sure of what?«
    »Why that he doesn't break up. You didn
