She had had time to take in their companion's face; and with it, as
such things were easy for her, she took in all. "Different--yes.
But better!"

If Waymarsh was sombre he was also indeed almost sublime. He told
them nothing, left his absence unexplained, and though they were
convinced he had made some extraordinary purchase they were never
to learn its nature. He only glowered grandly at the tops of the
old gables. "It's the sacred rage," Strether had had further time
to say; and this sacred rage was to become between them, for
convenient comprehension, the description of one of his periodical
necessities. It was Strether who eventually contended that it did
make him better than they. But by that time Miss Gostrey was
convinced that she didn't want to be better than Strether.





Book Second




I


Those occasions on which Strether was, in association with the
exile from Milrose, to see the sacred rage glimmer through would