heard from the Prince himself. I think," the happy man added, "that I'll go and secretly wire to him that you'd like, reply paid, a few words for yourself."
It could apparently but encourage her further to smile. "Reply paid for him, you mean--or for me?"
"Oh, I'll pay, with pleasure, anything back for you--as many words as you like." And he went on, to keep it up. "Not requiring either to see your message."
She could take it, visibly, as he meant it. "Should you require to see the Prince's?"
"Not a bit. You can keep that also to yourself."
On his speaking, however, as if his transmitting the hint were a real question, she appeared to consider--and almost as if for good taste--that the joke had gone far enough. "It doesn't matter. Unless he speaks of his own movement--! And why should it be," she asked, "a thing that WOULD occur to him?"
"I really think," Mr. Verver concurred, "that it naturally wouldn't. HE doesn't know you're morbid."
She just wondered--but she agreed. "No--he hasn't yet found it out. Perhaps he will, but he hasn't yet; and I'm willing to give him meanwhile the benefit of the doubt." So with this the situation, to her view, would appear to have cleared had she not too quickly had one of her restless relapses. "Maggie, however, does know I'm morbid. SHE hasn't the benefit."
"Well," said Adam Verver a little wearily at last, "I think I feel that you'll hear from her yet." It had even fairly come over him, under recurrent suggestion, that his daughter's omission WAS surprising. And Maggie had never in her life been wrong for more than three minutes.
"Oh, it isn't that I hold that I've a RIGHT to it," Charlotte the next instant rather oddly qualified--and the observation itself gave him a further push.
"Very well--I shall like it myself."
At this then, as if moved by his way of constantly--and more or less against his own contention--coming round to her, she showed how she could also always, and not less gently, come half way. "I speak of it only as the missing GRACE--
