a. The Prince had, by half-past ten--as also by definite
appointment--called in Cadogan Place for Mrs. Assingham's visitor, and
then, after brief delay, the two had walked together up Sloane Street
and got straight into the Park from Knightsbridge. The understanding
to this end had taken its place, after a couple of days, as inevitably
consequent on the appeal made by the girl during those first moments in
Mrs. Assingham's drawing-room. It was an appeal the couple of days
had done nothing to invalidate--everything, much rather, to place in a
light, and as to which, obviously, it wouldn't have fitted that anyone
should raise an objection. Who was there, for that matter, to raise
one, from the moment Mrs. Assingham, informed and apparently
not disapproving, didn't intervene? This the young man had asked
himself--with a very sufficient sense of what would have made him
ridiculous. He wasn't going to begin--that at least was certain--by
showing a fear. Even had fear at first been sharp in him, moreover,
it would already, not a little, have dropped; so happy, all round, so
propitious, he quite might have called it, had been the effect of this
rapid interval.

The time had been taken up largely by his active reception of his own
wedding-guests and by Maggie's scarce less absorbed entertainment of her
friend, whom she had kept for hours together in Portland Place; whom she
had not, as wouldn't have been convenient, invited altogether as yet to
migrate, but who had been present, with other persons, his contingent,
at luncheon, at tea, at dinner, at perpetual repasts--he had never in
his life, it struck him, had to reckon with so much eating--whenever he
had looked in. If he had not again, till this hour, save for a minute,
seen Charlotte alone, so, positively, all the while, he had not seen
even Maggie; and if, therefore, he had not seen even Maggie, nothing was
more natural than that he shouldn't have seen Charlotte. The exceptional
minute, a mere snatch, at the tail of the others, on the huge Portland
Place staircase had sufficiently enabled the girl to remind him--so
ready she assumed him to be--of what they were to do. Time pressed if
they were to do it at all. Everyone had brought gifts; his relations
had brought wonders--how did they still have, where did they still find,
such treasures? She only had brought nothing, and she was ashamed; yet
even by the sight of the rest of the tribute she wouldn't be put off.
She would d