I've seen her quite a number of times, and I was practically present when they made acquaintance.

I've kept my eye on her right along, but I don't know as there's any real harm in her." "'Harm' ?" Madame de Vionnet quickly echoed.

"Why she's the dearest and cleverest of all the clever and dear." "Well, you run her pretty close, Countess," Waymarsh returned with spirit; "though there's no doubt she's pretty well up in things.

She knows her way round Europe.

Above all there's no doubt she does love Strether." "Ah but we all do that--we all love Strether: it isn't a merit!" their fellow visitor laughed, keeping to her idea with a good conscience at which our friend was aware that he marvelled, though he trusted also for it, as he met her exquisitely expressive eyes, to some later light.
The prime effect of her tone, however--and it was a truth which his own eyes gave back to her in sad ironic play--could only be to make him feel that, to say such things to a man in public, a woman must practically think of him as ninety years old.