with a shade of knowing
surprise: "Gloriani?"

Our friend had in fact already hesitated, though not on the hint of his
companion's doubt, in which there were depths of critical reserve. He
had just made out, in the now full picture, something and somebody
else; another impression had been superimposed. A young girl in a
white dress and a softly plumed white hat had suddenly come into view,
and what was presently clear was that her course was toward them. What
was clearer still was that the handsome young man at her side was Chad
Newsome, and what was clearest of all was that she was therefore
Mademoiselle de Vionnet, that she was unmistakeably pretty--bright
gentle shy happy wonderful--and that Chad now, with a consummate
calculation of effect, was about to present her to his old friend's
vision. What was clearest of all indeed was something much more than
this, something at the single stroke of which--and wasn't it simply
juxtaposition?--all vagueness vanished. It was the click of a
spring--he saw the truth. He had by this time also met Chad's look;
there was more of it in that; and the truth, accordingly, so far as
Bilham's enquiry was concerned, had thrust in the answer. "Oh
Chad!"--it was that rare youth he should have enjoyed being "like." The
virtuous attachment would be all there before him; the virtuous
attachment would be in the very act of appeal for his blessing; Jeanne
de Vionnet, this charming creature, would be exquisitely, intensely
now--the object of it. Chad brought her straight up to him, and Chad
was, oh yes, at this moment--for the glory of Woollett or
whatever--better still even than Gloriani. He had plucked this
blossom; he had kept it over-night in water; and at last as he held it
up to wonder he did enjoy his effect. That was why Strether had felt
at first the breath of calculation--and why moreover, as he now knew,
his look at the girl would be, for the young man, a sign of the
latter's success. What young man had ever paraded about that way,
without a reason, a maiden in her flower? And there was nothing in his
reason at present obscure. Her type sufficiently told of it--they
wouldn't, they couldn't, want her to go to Woollett. Poor Woollett,
and what it might miss!--though brave Chad indeed too, and what it
might gain! Brave Chad however had just excellently spoken. "This is a
good little friend of mine who knows all about you and has moreover a
message for you. And this, my d