"He wants to be free.

He isn't used, you see," the young man explained in his lucid way, "to being so good." Strether hesitated.

"Then I may take it from you that he IS good ?" His companion matched his pause, but making it up with a quiet fulness.
"DO take it from me." "Well then why isn't he free?
He swears to me he is, but meanwhile does nothing--except of course that he's so kind to me--to prove it; and couldn't really act much otherwise if he weren't.

My question to you just now was exactly on this queer impression of his diplomacy: as if instead of really giving ground his line were to keep me on here and set me a bad example." As the half-hour meanwhile had ebbed Strether paid his score, and the waiter was presently in the act of counting out change.

Our friend pushed back to him a fraction of it, with which, after an emphatic recognition, the personage in question retreated.