se it stood
for the whole sum of the perplexities and duplicities among which our
young woman felt herself lately to have picked her steps; it was there
because Amerigo and Charlotte were again paying together alone a "week
end" visit which it had been Maggie's plan infernally to promote--just
to see if, this time, they really would; it was there because she had
kept Fanny, on her side, from paying one she would manifestly have
been glad to pay, and had made her come instead, stupidly, vacantly,
boringly, to luncheon: all in the spirit of celebrating the fact
that the Prince and Mrs. Verver had thus put it into her own power to
describe them exactly as they were. It had abruptly occurred, in truth,
that Maggie required the preliminary help of determining HOW they were;
though, on the other hand, before her guest had answered her question
everything in the hour and the place, everything in all the conditions,
affected her as crying it out. Her guest's stare of ignorance, above
all--that of itself at first cried it out. "'Between them?' What do you
mean?"

"Anything there shouldn't be, there shouldn't have BEEN--all this time.
Do you believe there is--or what's your idea?"

Fanny's idea was clearly, to begin with, that her young friend had taken
her breath away; but she looked at her very straight and very hard. "Do
you speak from a suspicion of your own?"

"I speak, at last, from a torment. Forgive me if it comes out. I've been
thinking for months and months, and I've no one to turn to, no one to
help me to make things out; no impression but my own, don't you see? to
go by."

"You've been thinking for months and months?" Mrs. Assingham took it in.
"But WHAT then, dear Maggie, have you been thinking?"

"Well, horrible things--like a little beast that I perhaps am. That
there may be something--something wrong and dreadful, something they
cover up."

The elder woman's colour had begun to come back; she was able, though
with a visible effort, to face the question less amazedly. "You imagine,
poor child, that the wretches are in love? Is that it?"

But Maggie for a minute only stared back at her. "Help me to find out
WHAT I imagine. I don't know--I've nothing but my perpetual anxiety.
Have you any?--do you see what I mean? If you'll tell me truly, that at
least, one way or the other, will do something for me."

Fanny's look had taken a peculiar gravity--a fulness with which it
seemed to shine. "Is what it comes to t