“And shall you?”
“Perfectly. I shall tell her the matter with her is that she wants only too much to do right. To do right for her, naturally,” said Mamie, “is to please.”
“Her mother, do you mean?”
“Her mother first.”
Strether waited. “And then?”
“Well, ‘then’—Mr. Newsome.”
There was something really grand for him in the serenity of this reference. “And last only Monsieur de Montbron?”
“Last only”—she good-humouredly kept it up.
Strether considered. “So that every one after all then will be suited?”
She had one of her few hesitations, but it was a question only of a moment; and it was her nearest approach to being explicit with him about what was between them. “I think I can speak for myself. I shall be.”