Miss
Gostrey, and he wondered if he had sounded like that. But HE at
least could be more definite. "I'm going to take you right down to
London."
"Oh I've been down to London!" Waymarsh more softly moaned.
"I've no use, Strether, for anything down there."
"Well," said Strether, good-humouredly, "I guess you've some use
for me."
"So I've got to go?"
"Oh you've got to go further yet."
"Well," Waymarsh sighed, "do your damnedest! Only you WILL tell
me before you lead me on all the way—?"
Our friend had again so lost himself, both for amusement and for
contrition, in the wonder of whether he had made, in his own
challenge that afternoon, such another figure, that he for an
instant missed the thread. "Tell you—?"
"Why what you've got on hand."
Strether hesitated. "Why it's such a matter as that even if I
positively wanted I shouldn't be able to keep it from you."
Waymarsh gloomily gazed. "What does that mean then but that your
trip is just FOR her?"
"For Mrs. Newsome? Oh it certainly is, as I say. Very much."
"Then why do you also say it's for me?"
Strether, in impatience, violently played with his latch. "It's
simple enough. It's for both of you."
Waymarsh at last turned over with a groan. "Well, I won't marry
you!"
"Neither, when it comes to that—!" But the visitor had already
laughed and escaped.
III
He had told Miss Gostrey he should probably take, for departure
with Waymarsh, some afternoon train, and it thereupon in the
morning appeared that this lady had made her own plan for an
earlier one. She had breakfasted when Strether came into the
coffee-room; but, Waymarsh not having yet emerged, he was in time
to recall her to the terms of their understanding and to pronounce
her discretion overdone. She was surely not to break away at the
very moment she had created a want. He had met her as she rose from
her little table in a window, where, with the morning papers beside
her, she reminded him, as he let her know, of Major Pendennis
breakfasting at his club—a compliment of which she professed a deep
appreciation; and he detained her as pleadingly as if he had
already—and notably under pressure of the visions of the
night—learned to be unable to do without her. She must teach him at
all events, before she went, to order breakfast as breakfast was
ordered in Europe, and she must especially sustain him in the
problem of ordering for Waymarsh. The latter had laid upon his
friend, by desperate sounds through the door of his room, dreadful
divined responsibilities in respect to beefsteak and
oranges—responsibilities which Miss Gostrey took over with an
alertness of action that matched her quick intelligence. She had
before this weaned the expatriated from traditions compared with
which the matutinal beefsteak was but the creature of an hour, and
it was not for her, with some of her memories, to falter in the
path though she freely enough declared, on reflexion, that there
was always in such cases a choice of opposed policies. "There are
times when to give them their head, you know—!"
They had gone to wait together in the garden for the dressing of
the meal, and Strether found her more suggestive than ever "Well,
what?"
"Is to bring about for them such a complexity of
relations-unless indeed we call it a simplicity!—that the situation
HAS to wind itself up. They want to go back."
"And you want them to go!" Strether gaily concluded.
"I always want them to go, and I send them as fast as I
can.'
"Oh I know—you take them to Liverpool."
"Any port will serve in a storm. I'm—with all my other
functions—an agent for repatriation. I want to re-people our
stricken country. What will become of it else? I want to discourage
others."
The ordered English garden, in the freshness of the day, was
delightful to Strether, who liked the sound, under his feet, of the
tight fine gravel, packed with the chronic damp, and who had the
idlest eye for the deep smoothness of turf and the clean curves of
paths. "Other
Gostrey, and he wondered if he had sounded like that. But HE at
least could be more definite. "I'm going to take you right down to
London."
"Oh I've been down to London!" Waymarsh more softly moaned.
"I've no use, Strether, for anything down there."
"Well," said Strether, good-humouredly, "I guess you've some use
for me."
"So I've got to go?"
"Oh you've got to go further yet."
"Well," Waymarsh sighed, "do your damnedest! Only you WILL tell
me before you lead me on all the way—?"
Our friend had again so lost himself, both for amusement and for
contrition, in the wonder of whether he had made, in his own
challenge that afternoon, such another figure, that he for an
instant missed the thread. "Tell you—?"
"Why what you've got on hand."
Strether hesitated. "Why it's such a matter as that even if I
positively wanted I shouldn't be able to keep it from you."
Waymarsh gloomily gazed. "What does that mean then but that your
trip is just FOR her?"
"For Mrs. Newsome? Oh it certainly is, as I say. Very much."
"Then why do you also say it's for me?"
Strether, in impatience, violently played with his latch. "It's
simple enough. It's for both of you."
Waymarsh at last turned over with a groan. "Well, I won't marry
you!"
"Neither, when it comes to that—!" But the visitor had already
laughed and escaped.
III
He had told Miss Gostrey he should probably take, for departure
with Waymarsh, some afternoon train, and it thereupon in the
morning appeared that this lady had made her own plan for an
earlier one. She had breakfasted when Strether came into the
coffee-room; but, Waymarsh not having yet emerged, he was in time
to recall her to the terms of their understanding and to pronounce
her discretion overdone. She was surely not to break away at the
very moment she had created a want. He had met her as she rose from
her little table in a window, where, with the morning papers beside
her, she reminded him, as he let her know, of Major Pendennis
breakfasting at his club—a compliment of which she professed a deep
appreciation; and he detained her as pleadingly as if he had
already—and notably under pressure of the visions of the
night—learned to be unable to do without her. She must teach him at
all events, before she went, to order breakfast as breakfast was
ordered in Europe, and she must especially sustain him in the
problem of ordering for Waymarsh. The latter had laid upon his
friend, by desperate sounds through the door of his room, dreadful
divined responsibilities in respect to beefsteak and
oranges—responsibilities which Miss Gostrey took over with an
alertness of action that matched her quick intelligence. She had
before this weaned the expatriated from traditions compared with
which the matutinal beefsteak was but the creature of an hour, and
it was not for her, with some of her memories, to falter in the
path though she freely enough declared, on reflexion, that there
was always in such cases a choice of opposed policies. "There are
times when to give them their head, you know—!"
They had gone to wait together in the garden for the dressing of
the meal, and Strether found her more suggestive than ever "Well,
what?"
"Is to bring about for them such a complexity of
relations-unless indeed we call it a simplicity!—that the situation
HAS to wind itself up. They want to go back."
"And you want them to go!" Strether gaily concluded.
"I always want them to go, and I send them as fast as I
can.'
"Oh I know—you take them to Liverpool."
"Any port will serve in a storm. I'm—with all my other
functions—an agent for repatriation. I want to re-people our
stricken country. What will become of it else? I want to discourage
others."
The ordered English garden, in the freshness of the day, was
delightful to Strether, who liked the sound, under his feet, of the
tight fine gravel, packed with the chronic damp, and who had the
idlest eye for the deep smoothness of turf and the clean curves of
paths. "Other
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