s beautiful," she went on, "that it should be Gloucester;
'Glo'ster, Glo'ster,' as you say, making it sound like an old song.
However, I'm sure Glo'ster, Glo'ster will be charming," she still added;
"we shall be able easily to lunch there, and, with our luggage and our
servants off our hands, we shall have at least three or four hours. We
can wire," she wound up, "from there."

Ever so quietly she had brought it, as she had thought it, all out, and
it had to be as covertly that he let his appreciation expand. "Then Lady
Castledean--?"

"Doesn't dream of our staying."

He took it, but thinking yet. "Then what does she dream--?"

"Of Mr. Blint, poor dear; of Mr. Blint only." Her smile for him--for
the Prince himself--was free. "Have I positively to tell you that she
doesn't want us? She only wanted us for the others--to show she wasn't
left alone with him. Now that that's done, and that they've all gone,
she of course knows for herself--!"

"'Knows'?" the Prince vaguely echoed.

"Why, that we like cathedrals; that we inevitably stop to see them, or
go round to take them in, whenever we've a chance; that it's what our
respective families quite expect of us and would be disappointed for
us to fail of. This, as forestieri," Mrs. Verver pursued, "would be our
pull--if our pull weren't indeed so great all round."

He could only keep his eyes on her. "And have you made out the very
train--?"

"The very one. Paddington--the 6.50 'in.' That gives us oceans; we can
dine, at the usual hour, at home; and as Maggie will of course be in
Eaton Square I hereby invite you."

For a while he still but looked at her; it was a minute before he spoke.
"Thank you very much. With pleasure." To which he in a moment added:
"But the train for Gloucester?"

"A local one--11.22; with several stops, but doing it a good deal, I
forget how much, within the hour. So that we've time. Only," she said,
"we must employ our time."

He roused himself as from the mere momentary spell of her; he looked
again at his watch while they moved back to the door through which she
had advanced. But he had also again questions and stops--all as for the
mystery and the charm. "You looked it up--without my having asked you?"

"Ah, my dear," she laughed, "I've seen you with Bradshaw! It takes
Anglo-Saxon blood."

"'Blood'?" he echoed. "You've that of every race!" It kept her before
him. "You're terrible."

Well, he could put it as he liked. "I know the nam