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"How will it be against him that you know him?" "Oh, I don't know. It won't be so much one's knowing him as one's having kept it out of sight." "Ah," said Mrs. Stringham, as if for comfort, "you haven't kept it out of sight. Isn't it much rather Miss Croy herself who has?" "It isn't my acquaintance with him," Milly smiled, "that she has dissimulated." "She has dissimulated only her own?
She gave herself up she had the strangest sense, on the spot, of so deciding; for she had turned a corner before she went on again with Lord Mark. Inexpressive, but intensely significant, he met as no one else could have done the very question she had suddenly put to Mrs. Stringham on the Brünig. Should she have it, whatever she did have, that question had been, for long?
Stringham and I, in the innocence of our hearts, very amusing." She had got up, as she spoke, to assure herself of what she said; and at the end of a few steps they were together on the balcony and looking down at her waiting chariot, which made indeed a brave show. "Is it very awful?" It was to Densher's eyes save for its absurd heaviness only pleasantly pompous.
The truth about Kate's delusion, as her aunt presented it, the delusion about the state of her affections, which might be removed this was apparently the ground on which they now might more intimately meet. Mrs. Stringham saw herself recruited for the removal of Kate's delusion by arts, however, in truth, that she as yet quite failed to compass. Or was it perhaps to be only for the removal of Mr.
Stringham explained. "He has wanted to come." "Isn't that rather worse then if it means he mayn't be easy?" "He was coming, from the first, for his holiday. She has known that these several weeks." After which Mrs. Stringham added: "You can make him easy." "I can?" he candidly wondered. It was truly the circle of petticoats. "What have I to do with it for a man like that?"
It had only the effect at first that her eyes grew dry while she took up again one of the so numerous links in her close chain. "You can tell her anything you like, anything whatever." "Mrs. Stringham? I have nothing to tell her." "You can tell her about us. I mean," she wonderfully pursued, "that you do still like me." It was indeed so wonderful that it amused him.
Stringham had helped the affair out, Mrs. Stringham who, when it came to that, knew their friend better than any of them. She knew her so well that she knew herself as acting in exquisite compliance with conditions comparatively obscure, approximately awful to them, by not thinking it necessary to stay at home.
Stringham stood as motionless as if a sound, a syllable, must have produced the start that would be fatal, so even the lapse of a few seconds had a partly reassuring effect. It gave her time to receive the impression which, when she some minutes later softly retraced her steps, was to be the sharpest she carried away.
We haven't at least as we might have, with the way we tumbled into it got hold of one of the dreary." "Interesting, dearest?" Mrs. Stringham felt her feet firmer. "I don't know if he's interesting or not; but I do know, my own," she continued to quaver, "that he's just as much interested as you could possibly desire." "Certainly that's it. Like all the world."
Stringham had said, staying for the week or two at the inns, people who during the day had fingered their Baedekers, gaped at their frescoes and differed, over fractions of francs, with their gondoliers.
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