"
She was silent a little. "No, it's Mr. Waymarsh's. It's the fault
of his having brought her."
"Ah then," said Strether good-naturedly, "why DID he bring her?"
"He couldn't afford not to."
"Oh you were a trophy--one of the spoils of conquest? But why in
that case, since you do 'compromise'--"
"Don't I compromise HIM as well? I do compromise him as well,"
Miss Barrace smiled. "I compromise him as hard as I can. But for
Mr. Waymarsh it isn't fatal. It's--so far as his wonderful
relation with Mrs. Pocock is concerned--favourable." And then, as
he still seemed slightly at sea: "The man who had succeeded with
ME, don't you see? For her to get him from me was such an added
incentive."
Strether saw, but as if his path was still strewn with surprises.
"It's 'from' you then that she has got him?"
She was amused at his momentary muddle. "You can fancy my fight!
She believes in her triumph. I think it has been part of her joy.
"Oh her joy!" Strether sceptically murmured.
"Well, she thinks she has had her own way. And what's to-night for
her but a kind of apotheosis? Her frock's really good."
"Good enough to go to heaven in? For after a real apotheosis,"
Strether went on, "there's nothing BUT heaven.
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