“It’s easy to arrange.  My maid goes up with my things.  You’ve only to speak to your man about yours, and they can go together.”

“You mean we can leave at once?”

She let him have it all.  “One of the carriages, about which I spoke, will already have come back for us.  If your superstitions are on our side,” she smiled, “so my arrangements are, and I’ll back my support against yours.”

“Then you had thought,” he wondered, “about Gloucester?”

She hesitated—­but it was only her way.  “I thought you would think.  We have, thank goodness, these harmonies.  They are food for superstition if you like.  It’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?”