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"Well, as I've faith in THEM, it comes to the same thing." Maggie, at this last, appeared for a moment to think again; but she embraced the proposition. "The same thing." "Then you're no longer unhappy?" her guest urged, coming more gaily toward her. "I doubtless shan't be a great while." But it was now Mrs. Assingham's turn to want more. "I've convinced you it's impossible?"
Besides which, with or without exactness, the effect of each successive minute in the place was to put her more in presence of what Maggie herself saw. Maggie herself saw the truth, and that was really, while they remained there together, enough for Mrs. Assingham's relation to it.
Assingham's and another to arrange with her thus for a morning practically as private as their old mornings in Rome and practically not less intimate. He had immediately told Maggie, the same evening, of the minutes that had passed between them in Cadogan Place though not mentioning those of Mrs.
She had reached it quite by herself; no one, not even Amerigo Amerigo least of all, who would have nothing to do with it had given her aid. To make it now with force for Fanny Assingham's benefit would see her further, in the direction in which the light had dawned, than any other spring she should, yet awhile, doubtless, be able to press.
"Oh, bother her child!" and he had never felt so snubbed, for an exemplary view, as when Fanny now stopped short. "To live, you poor dear, for her father which is another pair of sleeves!" And Mrs. Assingham's whole ample, ornamented person irradiated, with this, the truth that had begun, under so much handling, to glow. "Any idiot can do things for her child.
There were moments in truth when she privately felt how little striking out as he had done he could have afforded that she should show the common limits. But Mrs. Assingham's cleverness was in truth tested when her present visitor at last said to her: "I don't think, you know, that you're treating me quite right. You've something on your mind that you don't tell me."
"Under her direct appeal for the truth?" "Under her direct appeal for the truth." "Her appeal to his honour?" "Her appeal to his honour. That's my point." Fanny Assingham braved it. "For the truth as from him to her?" "From him to any one." Mrs. Assingham's face lighted. "He'll simply, he'll insistently have lied?" Maggie brought it out roundly. "He'll simply, he'll insistently have lied."
Charlotte's light intervention had thus become a cause, operating covertly but none the less actively, and Fanny Assingham's speech, which she had followed up a little, echoed within him, fairly to startle him, as the indication of something irresistible.
Verver had been, precisely, a part of Mrs. Assingham's mildness, and nothing could better have characterised her sense for social shades than her easy perception that the gentleman from Portland Place and the lady from Eaton Square might now confess, quite without indiscretion, to simultaneity of movement.
Assingham's view of what was now before them; that is to their connection with Charlotte Stant's possibilities. They wouldn't lavish on them all their little fortune of curiosity and alarm; certainly they wouldn't spend their cherished savings so early in the day.
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