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There seemed moreover a direct connexion between some such inference and a sudden grim dash taken by Waymarsh to the opposite side. This movement was startlingly sudden, and his companions at first supposed him to have espied, to be pursuing, the glimpse of an acquaintance.
Pocock's kind invitation, conveyed by Chad, in the entertainment, informal but cordial, promptly offered by that lady Waymarsh had anticipated him even as Madame de Vionnet had done, and, with his hands in his pockets and his attitude unaffected by Strether's entrance, was looking out, in marked detachment, at the Rue de Rivoli.
Strether laughed. "It's something I never called myself!" "It's what you are, all the same. You ain't so young as you were, but you've kept your teeth." He acknowledged his friend's humour. "Take care I don't get them into YOU! You'd like them, my friends at home, Waymarsh," he declared; "you'd really particularly like them.
These all were things congruous with his confession, and his confession was that he HAD it would come out properly just there if Waymarsh would only take it properly agreed to breakfast out, at twelve literally, the next day.
Which was still more the case when Waymarsh presently said: "Look here, Strether. Quit this." Our friend smiled with a doubt of his own. "Do you mean my tone?" "No damn your tone. I mean your nosing round. Quit the whole job. Let them stew in their juice. You're being used for a thing you ain't fit for. People don't take a fine-tooth comb to groom a horse." "Am I a fine-tooth comb?"
He could perform before strangers, but relatives were fatal, and it was now as if, comparatively, Waymarsh were a relative. He seemed to hear him say "Strike up then!" and to enjoy a foretaste of conscientious domestic criticism.
Chad Newsome was doubtless to be struck, when he arrived, with the sharpness of their opposition at this particular hour; he was to remember, as a part of it, how Waymarsh came with him and with Strether to the street and stood there with a face half-wistful and half-rueful.
Here, with his scrap of paper compressed in his fist and further concealed by his folding his arms tight, he sat for some time in thought, gazed before him so straight that Waymarsh appeared and approached him without catching his eye.
It was with grim Sarah then Sarah grim for all her grace that Waymarsh had begun at ten o'clock in the morning to save him. Well if he COULD, poor dear man, with his big bleak kindness! The upshot of which crowded perception was that Strether, on his own side, still showed no more than he absolutely had to. He showed the least possible by saying to Mrs.
Doubt ceased to be possible from the moment he had taken in that she had arrived with no proposal whatever; that her concern was simply to show what she had come to receive. She had come to receive his submission, and Waymarsh was to have made it plain to him that she would expect nothing less.
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