The limitations of their distinctness didn't, however, prevent its fairly lingering in the air that it was this lady Mrs.Pocock hated.

It added one more touch moreover to their established recognition of the rare intimacy of Chad's association with her.

He had never yet more twitched away the last light veil from this phenomenon than in presenting himself as confounded and submerged in the feeling she had created at Woollett.
"And I'll tell you who hates me too," he immediately went on.
Strether knew as immediately whom he meant, but with as prompt a protest.

"Ah no! Mamie doesn't hate--well," he caught himself in time--"anybody at all.

Mamie's beautiful." Chad shook his head.