Strether. It was simply because he had decided that Emilia couldn’t be a blackmailer’s girl. And he had decided that because he had liked Emilia. But of course in spite of that she could be a blackmailer’s girl. So perhaps it was true that he let people he liked get away with murder. But what did that matter? What did matter was that Emilia almost certainly was a blackmailer’s girl. How sad and horrible that was.
The girl he was going to meet, at any rate, could never conceivably be a blackmailer’s girl. That was a big point about her. In fact it was emblematic of the biggest point of all about her, the biggest point there could be about anybody.
A few minutes later the non-blackmailer’s girl was hurrying down the platform to meet him. She left Sandra to totter along between the two boys, put her suitcases down and bounded up to him like a little agile tennis-player. They kissed. Bowen had never felt so relieved in his life.
“Oh, bogey,” Barbara said. “You look a bit tired.”
“I’m fine.”
“But you’re lovely and brown. I think your holiday’s done you a lot of good.”
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