"Oh yes, she's a collector, and I knew she was to come. Is Madame
de Vionnet a collector?" Strether went on.
"Rather, I believe; almost celebrated." The young man met, on it,
a little, his friend's eyes. "I happen to know--from Chad, whom I
saw last night--that they've come back; but only yesterday.
He wasn't sure--up to the last. This, accordingly," little Bilham
went on, "will be--if they ARE here--their first appearance after
their return."
Strether, very quickly, turned these things over. "Chad told you
last night? To me, on our way here, he said nothing about it."
"But did you ask him?"
Strether did him the justice. "I dare say not."
"Well," said little Bilham, "you're not a person to whom it's easy
to tell things you don't want to know. Though it is easy, I admit--
it's quite beautiful," he benevolently added, "when you do want to."
Strether looked at him with an indulgence that matched his
intelligence. "Is that the deep reasoning on which--about these
ladies--you've been yourself so silent?"
Little Bilham considered the depth of his reasoning. "I haven't
been silent. I spoke of them to you the other day, the day we sat
together after Chad's tea-party."
Strether came round to it.
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