is very own though she was, as a figure thus simplified,
"generalised" in its grace, a figure with which his human connection was
fairly interrupted by some vague analogy of turn and attitude, something
shyly mythological and nymphlike. The trick, he was not uncomplacently
aware, was mainly of his own mind; it came from his caring for precious
vases only less than for precious daughters. And what was more to the
point still, it often operated while he was quite at the same time
conscious that Maggie had been described, even in her prettiness, as
"prim"--Mrs. Rance herself had enthusiastically used the word of
her; while he remembered that when once she had been told before him,
familiarly, that she resembled a nun, she had replied that she was
delighted to hear it and would certainly try to; while also, finally,
it was present to him that, discreetly heedless, thanks to her long
association with nobleness in art, to the leaps and bounds of fashion,
she brought her hair down very straight and flat over her temples, in
the constant manner of her mother, who had not been a bit mythological.
Nymphs and nuns were certainly separate types, but Mr. Verver, when he
really amused himself, let consistency go. The play of vision was at all
events so rooted in him that he could receive impressions of sense even
while positively thinking. He was positively thinking while Maggie stood
there, and it led for him to yet another question--which in its turn
led to others still. "Do you regard the condition as hers then that you
spoke of a minute ago?"

"The condition--?"

"Why that of having loved so intensely that she's, as you say, 'beyond
everything'?"

Maggie had scarcely to reflect--her answer was so prompt. "Oh no. She's
beyond nothing. For she has had nothing."

"I see. You must have had things to be them. It's a kind of law of
perspective."

Maggie didn't know about the law, but she continued definite. "She's
not, for example, beyond help."

"Oh well then, she shall have all we can give her. I'll write to her,"
he said, "with pleasure."

"Angel!" she answered as she gaily and tenderly looked at him.

True as this might be, however, there was one thing more--he was an
angel with a human curiosity. "Has she told you she likes me much?"

"Certainly she has told me--but I won't pamper you. Let it be enough for
you it has always been one of my reasons for liking HER."

"Then she's indeed not beyond everything," Mr. Verver m