"I see. But there are all the same," she went on, "two quite
distinct things that--given the wonderful place he's in--may have
happened to him. One is that he may have got brutalised. The other
is that he may have got refined."

Strether stared--this WAS a novelty. "Refined?"

"Oh," she said quietly, "there ARE refinements."

The way of it made him, after looking at her, break into a laugh.
"YOU have them!"

"As one of the signs," she continued in the same tone, "they
constitute perhaps the worst."

He thought it over and his gravity returned. "Is it a refinement
not to answer his mother's letters?"

She appeared to have a scruple, but she brought it out. "Oh I
should say the greatest of all."

"Well," said Strether, "I'M quite content to let it, as one of the
signs, pass for the worst that I know he believes he can do what he
likes with me."

This appeared to strike her. "How do you know it?"

"Oh I'm sure of it. I feel it in my bones."

"Feel he CAN do it?"