er or a trader in a new country; in the likeness even
of some Indian squaw with a papoose on her back and barbarous bead-work
to sell. Maggie's own, in short, would have been sought in vain in the
most rudimentary map of the social relations as such. The only geography
marking it would be doubtless that of the fundamental passions. The
"end" that the Prince was at all events holding out for was represented
to expectation by his father-in-law's announced departure for America
with Mrs. Verver; just as that prospective event had originally figured
as advising, for discretion, the flight of the younger couple, to say
nothing of the withdrawal of whatever other importunate company, before
the great upheaval of Fawns. This residence was to be peopled for a
month by porters, packers and hammerers, at whose operations it had
become peculiarly public--public that is for Portland Place--that
Charlotte was to preside in force; operations the quite awful appointed
scale and style of which had at no moment loomed so large to Maggie's
mind as one day when the dear Assinghams swam back into her ken
besprinkled with sawdust and looking as pale as if they had seen Samson
pull down the temple. They had seen at least what she was not seeing,
rich dim things under the impression of which they had retired; she
having eyes at present but for the clock by which she timed her husband,
or for the glass--the image perhaps would be truer--in which he was
reflected to her as HE timed the pair in the country. The accession of
their friends from Cadogan Place contributed to all their intermissions,
at any rate, a certain effect of resonance; an effect especially marked
by the upshot of a prompt exchange of inquiries between Mrs. Assingham
and the Princess. It was noted, on the occasion of that anxious lady's
last approach to her young friend at Fawns, that her sympathy had
ventured, after much accepted privation, again to become inquisitive,
and it had perhaps never so yielded to that need as on this question of
the present odd "line" of the distinguished eccentrics.

"You mean to say really that you're going to stick here?" And then
before Maggie could answer: "What on earth will you do with your
evenings?"

Maggie waited a moment--Maggie could still tentatively smile. "When
people learn we're here--and of course the papers will be full of
it!--they'll flock back in their hundreds, from wherever they are, to
catch us. You see you and the Colonel