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Updated: May 14, 2025
And the beauty," she explained, "is that they're afraid for them. Afraid, I mean, for the others." "For Mr. Verver and Maggie?" It did take some following. "Afraid of what?" "Afraid of themselves." The Colonel wondered. "Of THEMSELVES? Of Mr. Verver's and Maggie's selves?" Mrs. Assingham remained patient as well as lucid. "Yes of SUCH blindness too. But most of all of their own danger."
She had made, for the four days, no direct appeal to the latter personage, but the Prince was accidental witness of her taking a fresh start at the moment the company were about to scatter for the last night of their stay. There had been, at this climax, the usual preparatory talk about hours and combinations, in the midst of which poor Fanny gently approached Mrs. Verver.
Magnificent, I mean, for taking everything as it is, for accepting the 'social limitations' of our life, for not missing what we don't give him." Mr. Verver attended. "Then if he doesn't miss it his magnificence is easy." "It IS easy-that's exactly what I think.
Magnificent, I mean, for taking everything as it is, for accepting the 'social limitations' of our life, for not missing what we don't give him." Mr. Verver attended. "Then if he doesn't miss it his magnificence is easy." "It IS easy-that's exactly what I think.
No flicker of his ribaldry was anything to her now. "Maggie had in the first place to make up to her father for her having suffered herself to become poor little dear, as she believed so intensely married. Then she had to make up to her husband for taking so much of the time they might otherwise have spent together to make this reparation to Mr. Verver perfect.
Verver while the particular importance that dispenses with chatter was diffused by his movements themselves, his repeated act of passage between a featureless mahogany meuble and a table so virtuously disinterested as to look fairly smug under a cotton cloth of faded maroon and indigo, all redolent of patriarchal teas.
Verver's marriage. You weren't at least in love with Charlotte." "Oh," Mrs. Assingham, at this, always brought out, "my hand in that is easily accounted for by my desire to be agreeable to HIM." "To Mr. Verver?"
Verver should make with him those mistakes of proportion, one set of them too abruptly, too incoherently designed to correct another set, that she had made with his daughter. However, if she HAD been worse, poor woman, who should say that her husband would, to a certainty, have been better?
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.
We share this world, none the less, for the hour, with Mr. Verver; the very fact of his striking, as he would have said, for solitude, the fact of his quiet flight, almost on tiptoe, through tortuous corridors, investing him with an interest that makes our attention tender indeed almost to compassion qualify his achieved isolation.
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