THE PRINCE
him and his daughter's friend had surely been taken for granted. "My dear child," he returned, "I don't think I'm afraid of Charlotte."
"Well, that's just what it's lovely to have from you. From the moment you're not—the least little bit—I'll immediately invite her."
"But where in the world is she?" He spoke as if he hadn't thought of Charlotte, nor so much as heard her name pronounced, for a very long time. He quite in fact amicably, almost amusedly, woke up to her.
"She's in Brittany, at a little bathing-place, with some people I don't know. She 's always with people, poor dear—she rather has to be; even when, as is sometimes the case, they're people she doesn't immensely like."
"Well, I guess she likes us," said Adam Verver.
"Yes—fortunately she likes us. And if I wasn't afraid of spoiling it for you," Maggie added, "I'd even mention that you're not the one of our number she likes least."
"Why should that spoil it for me?"
"Oh my dear, you know. What else have we been talking about? It costs you so much to be liked. That's why I hesitated to tell you of my letter."
He stared a moment—as if the subject had suddenly grown out of recognition. "But Charlotte—on other visits—never used to cost me anything."
"No—only her 'keep,'" Maggie smiled.
"Then I don't think I mind her keep—if that's all."
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