 and good
and rather lonely. They've made friends, he and she, ever so happily, and he
doesn't, I believe, think ill of her. As for Jeanne herself he has had the same
success with her that I know he has had here wherever he has turned.« She seemed
to ask him for permission to say these things, or seemed rather to take it,
softly and happily, with the ease of intimacy, for granted, and he had quite the
consciousness now that not to meet her at any point more than halfway would be
odiously, basely to abandon her. Yes, he was with her, and, opposed even in this
covert, this semi-safe fashion to those who were not, he felt, strangely and
confusedly, but excitedly, inspiringly, how much and how far. It was as if he
had positively waited in suspense for something from her that would let him in
deeper, so that he might show her how he could take it. And what did in fact
come as she drew out a little her farewell served sufficiently the purpose. »As
his success is a matter that I'm sure he'll never mention for himself, I feel,
you see, the less scruple; which it's very good of me to say, you know, by the
way,« she added as she addressed herself to him; »considering how little direct
advantage I've gained from your triumphs with me. When does one ever see you? I
wait at home and I languish. You'll have rendered me the service, Mrs. Pocock,
at least,« she wound up, »of giving me one of my much-too-rare glimpses of this
gentleman.«
    »I certainly should be sorry to deprive you of anything that seems so much,
as you describe it, your natural due. Mr. Strether and I are very old friends,«
Sarah allowed, »but the privilege of his society isn't a thing I shall quarrel
about with any one.«
    »And yet, dear Sarah,« he freely broke in, »I feel, when I hear you say
that, that you don't quite do justice to the important truth of the extent to
which - as you're also mine - I'm your natural due. I should like much better,«
he laughed, »to see you fight for me.«
    She met him, Mrs. Pocock, on this, with an arrest of speech - with a certain
breathlessness, as
