For the Prince himself, meanwhile, time, in its measured allowance, had originally much helped him—­helped him in the sense of there not being enough of it to trip him up; in spite of which it was just this accessory element that seemed, at present, with wonders of patience, to lie in wait.  Time had begotten at first, more than anything else, separations, delays and intervals; but it was troublesomely less of an aid from the moment it began so to abound that he had to meet the question of what to do with it.  Less of it was required for the state of being married than he had, on the whole, expected; less, strangely, for the state of being married even as he was married.  And there was a logic in the matter, he knew; a logic that but gave this truth a sort of solidity of evidence.  Mr. Verver, decidedly, helped him with it—­with his wedded condition; helped him really so much that it made all the difference.  In the degree in which he rendered it the service on Mr. Verver’s part was remarkable—­as indeed what service, from the first of their meeting, had not been?  He was living, he had been living these four or five years, on Mr. Verver’s services:  a truth scarcely less plain if he dealt with them, for appreciation, one by one, than if he poured them all together into the general pot of his gratitude and let the thing simmer to a nourishing broth.  To the latter way with them he was undoubtedly most disposed; yet he would even thus, on occasion, pick out a piece to taste on its own merits.  Wondrous at such hours could seem the savour of the particular “treat,” at his father-in-law’s expense, that he more and more struck himself as enjoying.  He had needed months and months to arrive at a full appreciation—­he couldn’t originally have given offhand a name to his deepest obligation; but by the time the name had flowered in his mind he was practically living at the ease guaranteed him.  Mr. Verver then, in a word, took care of his relation to Maggie, as he took care, and apparently always would, of everything else.  He relieved him of all anxiety about his married life in the same manner in which he relieved him on the score of his bank-account.  And as he performed the latter office by communicating with the bankers, so the former sprang as directly from his good understanding with his daughter.  This understanding had, wonderfully—­that was in high evidence—­the same deep intimacy as the commercial, the financial association founded, far down, on a community of interest.  And the correspondence, for the Prince, carried itself out in identities of character the vision of which, fortunately, rather tended to amuse than to—­as might have happened—­irritate him.  Those people—­and his free synthesis lumped together capitalists and bankers, retired men of business, illustrious collectors, American fathers-in-law, American fathers, little American daughters, little American wives—­those people were of the same large lucky group, as one might say; they were all, at least,