e of our flights and our drops, our
hesitations and our plunges: I shall hang about there, all impatience
and excitement, please let Sarah know, till she graciously presents
herself. Leave me with her without fear," he laughed; "I assure you I
shan't hurt her. I don't think either she'll hurt ME: I'm in a
situation in which damage was some time ago discounted. Besides, THAT
isn't what worries you--but don't, don't explain! We're all right as we
are: which was the degree of success our adventure was pledged to for
each of us. We weren't, it seemed, all right as we were before; and
we've got over the ground, all things considered, quickly. I hope
you'll have a lovely time in the Alps."
Waymarsh fairly looked up at him as from the foot of them. "I don't
know as I OUGHT really to go."
It was the conscience of Milrose in the very voice of Milrose, but, oh
it was feeble and flat! Strether suddenly felt quite ashamed for him;
he breathed a greater boldness. "LET yourself, on the contrary, go--in
all agreeable directions. These are precious hours--at our age they
mayn't recur. Don't have it to say to yourself at Milrose, next
winter, that you hadn't courage for them." And then as his comrade
queerly stared: "Live up to Mrs. Pocock."
"Live up to her?"
"You're a great help to her."
Waymarsh looked at it as at one of the uncomfortable things that were
certainly true and that it was yet ironical to say. "It's more then
than you are."
"That's exactly your own chance and advantage. Besides," said
Strether, "I do in my way contribute. I know what I'm about."
Waymarsh had kept on his great panama, and, as he now stood nearer the
door, his last look beneath the shade of it had turned again to
darkness and warning. "So do I! See here, Strether."
"I know what you're going to say. 'Quit this'?"
"Quit this!" But it lacked its old intensity; nothing of it remained;
it went out of the room with him.
III
Almost the first thing, strangely enough, that, about an hour later,
Strether found himself doing in Sarah's presence was to remark
articulately on this failure, in their friend, of what had been
superficially his great distinction. It was as if--he alluded of
course to the grand manner--the dear man had sacrificed it to some
other advantage; which would be of course only for himself to measure.
It might be simply that he was physically so much more sound than on
his first coming out; this
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