You've accepted the mission of separating him from
the wicked woman. Are you quite sure she's very bad for him?"
Something in his manner showed it as quite pulling him up. "Of
course we are. Wouldn't YOU be?"
"Oh I don't know. One never does--does one?--beforehand. One can
only judge on the facts. Yours are quite new to me; I'm really not
in the least, as you see, in possession of them: so it will be
awfully interesting to have them from you. If you're satisfied,
that's all that's required. I mean if you're sure you ARE sure:
sure it won't do."
"That he should lead such a life? Rather!"
"Oh but I don't know, you see, about his life; you've not told me
about his life. She may be charming--his life!"
"Charming?"--Strether stared before him. "She's base, venal-out of
the streets."
"I see. And HE--?"
"Chad, wretched boy?"
"Of what type and temper is he?" she went on as Strether had
lapsed.
"Well--the obstinate." It was as if for a moment he had been going
to say more and had then controlled himself.
That was scarce what she wished. "Do you like him?"
This time he was prompt. "No. How CAN I?"
"Do you mean because of your being so saddled with him?"
"I'm thinking of his mother," said Strether after a moment.
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