"He'll never say a word to you about me." She took it in; she did it justice; yet after an instant her reason, her restless irony, disposed of it.

"Of course he won't.

For what do you take people, that they're able to say words about anything, able remorselessly to analyse?
There are not many like you and me.

It will be only because he's too stupid." It stirred in her friend a sceptical echo which was at the same time the protest of the faith of years.

"Waymarsh stupid ?" "Compared with you." Strether had still his eyes on the jeweller's front, and he waited a moment to answer.