in a way that's barely decent, and he can do what he likes with you. Well then, let him to his heart's content; he has been in such a hurry to take you that we 'll see if it suits him to keep you! I 'm very good to break my heart about it when you 've no more feeling for me than a clammy little fish!" She suddenly thrust the child away and, as a disgusted admission of failure, sent her flying across the room into the arms of Mrs. Wix, whom, at this moment and even in the whirl of her transit, Maisie saw, very red, exchange a quick queer look with Sir Claude.
The impression of the look remained with her, confronting her with such a critical little view of her mother's explosion that she felt the less ashamed of herself for incurring the reproach with which she had been cast off. Her father had once called her a heartless little beast, and now, though decidedly scared, she was as stiff and cold as if the description had been just. She was not even frightened enough to cry, which would have been a tribute to her mother's wrongs; she was only, more than anything else, curious about the opinion mutely expressed by their companions. Taking the earliest opportunity to
