"And I cordially admit," he added with his conscious gaiety of courage, "that she's as wonderful a woman as you like." "Ah it isn't I who 'like,' dear Mr.Strether, anything to do with the matter!" Sarah Pocock promptly protested; "and I'm by no means sure I have--from my mother or from any one else--a notion of whom you're talking about." "Well, he won't let you see her, you know," Madame de Vionnet sympathetically threw in.

"He never lets me--old friends as we are: I mean as I am with Maria.

He reserves her for his best hours; keeps her consummately to himself; only gives us others the crumbs of the feast." "Well, Countess, I'VE had some of the crumbs," Waymarsh observed with weight and covering her with his large look; which led her to break in before he could go on.
"Comment donc, he shares her with YOU ?" she exclaimed in droll stupefaction.

"Take care you don't have, before you go much further, rather more of all ces dames than you may know what to do with!" But he only continued in his massive way.

"I can post you about the lady, Mrs.Pocock, so far as you may care to hear.