now." And he leaned back in his chair.

"I like your 'now'!" she laughed across at him.

"Well, it's precisely that it fully comes to me at present that I've
kept you long enough. I know by this time, at any rate, what I meant
by my speech; and I really knew it the night of Chad's dinner."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it was difficult at the moment. I had already at that moment
done something for you, in the sense of what I had said the day I went
to see you; but I wasn't then sure of the importance I might represent
this as having."

She was all eagerness. "And you're sure now?"

"Yes; I see that, practically, I've done for you--had done for you when
you put me your question--all that it's as yet possible to me to do. I
feel now," he went on, "that it may go further than I thought. What I
did after my visit to you," he explained, "was to write straight off to
Mrs. Newsome about you, and I'm at last, from one day to the other,
expecting her answer. It's this answer that will represent, as I
believe, the consequences."

Patient and beautiful was her interest. "I see--the consequences of
your speaking for me." And she waited as if not to hustle him.

He acknowledged it by immediately going on. "The question, you
understand, was HOW I should save you. Well, I'm trying it by thus
letting her know that I consider you worth saving."

"I see--I see." Her eagerness broke through.

"How can I thank you enough?" He couldn't tell her that, however, and
she quickly pursued. "You do really, for yourself, consider it?"

His only answer at first was to help her to the dish that had been
freshly put before them. "I've written to her again since then--I've
left her in no doubt of what I think. I've told her all about you."

"Thanks--not so much. 'All about' me," she went on--"yes."

"All it seems to me you've done for him."

"Ah and you might have added all it seems to ME!" She laughed again,
while she took up her knife and fork, as in the cheer of these
assurances. "But you're not sure how she'll take it."

"No, I'll not pretend I'm sure."

"Voila." 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?"