"Thank you. NOW don't you see," she went on, "why the boy
doesn't come home? He's drowning his shame."
"His shame? What shame?"
"What shame? Comment donc? THE shame."
"But where and when," Strether asked, "is 'THE shame'--where is any
shame--to-day? The men I speak of--they did as every one does; and
(besides being ancient history) it was all a matter of appreciation."
She showed how she understood. "Mrs. Newsome has appreciated?"
"Ah I can't speak for HER!"
"In the midst of such doings--and, as I understand you, profiting
by them, she at least has remained exquisite?"
"Oh I can't talk of her!" Strether said.
"I thought she was just what you COULD talk of. You DON'T trust
me," Miss Gostrey after a moment declared.
It had its effect. "Well, her money is spent, her life conceived
and carried on with a large beneficence--"
"That's a kind of expiation of wrongs? Gracious," she added before
he could speak, "how intensely you make me see her!"
"If you see her," Strether dropped, "it's all that's necessary."
She really seemed to have her. "I feel that. She IS, in spite of
everything, handsome."
This at least enlivened him. "What do you mean by everything?"
"Well, I mean YOU.
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