l about her than I am!" And then as his
friend showed how she could believe it, filling it out, fitting it on
to old memories of the wonderful woman: "What I should have liked to
manage would have been HER going."

"To Switzerland with the party?"

"For Jim--and for symmetry. If it had been workable moreover for a
fortnight she'd have gone. She's ready"--he followed up his renewed
vision of her--"for anything."

Miss Gostrey went with him a minute. "She's too perfect!"

"She WILL, I think," he pursued, "go to-night to the station."

"To see him off?"

"With Chad--marvellously--as part of their general attention. And she
does it"--it kept before him--"with a light, light grace, a free, free
gaiety, that may well softly bewilder Mr. Pocock."

It kept her so before him that his companion had after an instant a
friendly comment. "As in short it has softly bewildered a saner man.
Are you really in love with her?" Maria threw off.

"It's of no importance I should know," he replied. "It matters so
little--has nothing to do, practically, with either of us."

"All the same"--Maria continued to smile--"they go, the five, as I
understand you, and you and Madame de Vionnet stay."

"Oh and Chad." To which Strether added: "And you."

"Ah 'me'!"--she gave a small impatient wail again, in which something
of the unreconciled seemed suddenly to break out. "I don't stay, it
somehow seems to me, much to my advantage. In the presence of all you
cause to pass before me I've a tremendous sense of privation."

Strether hesitated. "But your privation, your keeping out of
everything, has been--hasn't it?--by your own choice."

"Oh yes; it has been necessary--that is it has been better for you.
What I mean is only that I seem to have ceased to serve you."

"How can you tell that?" he asked. "You don't know how you serve me.
When you cease--"

"Well?" she said as he dropped.

"Well, I'll LET you know. Be quiet till then."

She thought a moment. "Then you positively like me to stay?"

"Don't I treat you as if I did?"

"You're certainly very kind to me. But that," said Maria, "is for
myself. It's getting late, as you see, and Paris turning rather hot
and dusty. People are scattering, and some of them, in other places
want me. But if you want me here--!"

She had spoken as resigned to his word, but he had of a sudden a still
sharper sense than he would have expected of desiring not to lose her.
"I want you