Perhaps she's only five.
Perhaps the mother's but five-and-twenty--a charming young widow." Miss Gostrey entertained the suggestion.

"She IS a widow then ?" "I haven't the least idea!" They once more, in spite of this vagueness, exchanged a look--a look that was perhaps the longest yet.
It seemed in fact, the next thing, to require to explain itself; which it did as it could.

"I only feel what I've told you--that he has some reason." Miss Gostrey's imagination had taken its own flight.

"Perhaps she's NOT a widow." Strether seemed to accept the possibility with reserve.

Still he accepted it.