 wit? The sound of Mrs. Pocock's respiration drowns for me, I assure you,
every other. It's literally all I hear.«
    She focussed him with her clink of chains. »Well -!« she breathed ever so
kindly.
    »Well, what?«
    »She is free from her chin up,« she mused; »and that will be enough for
her.«
    »It will be enough for me!« Strether ruefully laughed. »Waymarsh has
really,« he then asked, »brought her to see you?«
    »Yes - but that's the worst of it. I could do you no good. And yet I tried
hard.«
    Strether wondered. »And how did you try?«
    »Why I didn't speak of you.«
    »I see. That was better.«
    »Then what would have been worse? For speaking or silent,« she lightly
wailed, »I somehow compromise. And it has never been any one but you.«
    »That shows« - he was magnanimous - »that it's something not in you, but in
one's self. It's my fault.«
    She was silent a little. »No, it's Mr. Waymarsh's. It's the fault of his
having brought her.«
    »Ah then,« said Strether good-naturedly, »why did he bring her?«
    »He couldn't afford not to.«
    »Oh you were a trophy - one of the spoils of conquest? But why in that case,
since you do compromise -«
    »Don't I compromise him as well? I do compromise him as well,« Miss Barrace
smiled. »I compromise him as hard as I can. But for Mr. Waymarsh it isn't fatal.
It's - so far as his wonderful relation with Mrs. Pocock is concerned -
favourable.« And then, as he still seemed slightly at sea: »The man who had
succeeded with me, don't you see? For her to get him from me was such an added
incentive.«
    Strether saw, but as if his path was still strewn with surprises. »It's from
you then that she has got him?«
    She was amused at his momentary muddle. »You can fancy my fight! She
believes in her triumph. I think it has been part of her joy.«
    »Oh her joy!« Strether sceptically murmured.
    » Well, she thinks she has
