But where's the harm if we haven't been wrong ?" Chad raised his face to the lamp, and it was one of the moments at which he had, in his extraordinary way, most his air of designedly showing himself.

It was as if at these instants he just presented himself, his identity so rounded off, his palpable presence and his massive young manhood, as such a link in the chain as might practically amount to a kind of demonstration.

It was as if--and how but anomalously ?--he couldn't after all help thinking sufficiently well of these things to let them go for what they were worth.

What could there be in this for Strether but the hint of some self-respect, some sense of power, oddly perverted; something latent and beyond access, ominous and perhaps enviable?
The intimation had the next thing, in a flash, taken on a name--a name on which our friend seized as he asked himself if he weren't perhaps really dealing with an irreducible young Pagan.
This description--he quite jumped at it--had a sound that gratified his mental ear, so that of a sudden he had already adopted it.

Pagan--yes, that was, wasn't it?
what Chad WOULD logically be.