's
worth. Now his wife and his mother-in-law,« Strether continued to explain,
»have, as in honour bound, no patience with such phenomena, late or early -
which puts Jim, as against his relatives, on the other side. Besides,« he added,
»I don't think he really wants Chad back. If Chad doesn't come -«
    »He'll have« - Madame de Vionnet quite apprehended - »more of the free
hand?«
    »Well, Chad's the bigger man.«
    »So he'll work now, en dessous to keep him quiet?«
    »No - he won't 'work' at all, and he won't do anything en dessous. He's very
decent and won't be a traitor in the camp. But he'll be amused with his own
little view of our duplicity, he'll sniff up what he supposes to be Paris from
morning till night, and he'll be, as to the rest, for Chad - well, just what he
is.«
    She thought it over. »A warning?«
    He met it almost with glee. »You are as wonderful as everybody says!« And
then to explain all he meant: »I drove him about for his first hour, and do you
know what - all beautifully unconscious - he most put before me? Why that
something like that is at bottom, as an improvement to his present state, as in
fact the real redemption of it, what they think it may not be too late to make
of our friend.« With which, as, taking it in, she seemed, in her recurrent
alarm, bravely to gaze at the possibility, he completed his statement. »But it
is too late. Thanks to you!«
    It drew from her again one of her indefinite reflexions. »Oh me - after
all!«
    He stood before her so exhilarated by his demonstration that he could fairly
be jocular. »Everything's comparative. You're better than that.«
    »You« - she could but answer him - »are better than anything.« But she had
another thought. »Will Mrs. Pocock come to me?«
    »Oh yes - she'll do that. As soon, that is, as my friend Waymarsh - her
friend now - leaves her leisure.«
    She showed an interest. »Is he so much her friend as that?«
    »Why, didn't you see it