firm in the schoolroom. They could only be loosened by force; she would "leave" for the police, perhaps, but she would n't "leave" for mere outrage. That would be to play her ladyship's game, and it would take another turn of the screw to make her desert her darling. Her ladyship had come down with extraordinary ferocity: it had been one of many symptoms of a situation strained—"between them all," as Mrs. Wix said, "but especially between the two"—to the point of God only knew what!
Her description of the crisis made the child reflect. "Between which two?—papa and mamma?"
"Dear, no. I mean between your mother and him."
Maisie, in this, recognized an opportunity to be really deep. "Him?—Mr. Perriam?"
She fairly brought a blush to the scared face. "Well, my dear, I must say that what you don't know ain't worth mentioning. That it won't go on forever with Mr. Perriam—since I must meet you—who can suppose? But I meant dear Sir Claude."
Maisie stood corrected rather than abashed. "I see. But it's about Mr. Perriam he's angry?"
