Mrs. Beale turned lovely eyes to Sir Claude. "That's not for me to say—it's for him."
He said nothing for the time, however; with his hands in his pockets and vaguely humming a tune—even Maisie could see he was a little nervous—he only walked to the window and looked out at the Regent's Park. "Well, he has promised," Maisie said. "But how will papa like it?"
"His being in and out? Ah, that's a question that, to be frank with you, my dear, hardly matters. In point of fact, however, Beale greatly enjoys the idea that Sir Claude too, poor man, has been forced to quarrel with your mother."
Sir Claude turned round and spoke gravely and kindly. "Don't be afraid, Maisie; you won't lose sight of me."
"Thank you so much!" Maisie was radiant. "But what I meant—don't you know?—was what papa would say to me."
"Oh, I Ve been having that out with him," said Mrs. Beale—"he 'll behave well enough. You see the great difficulty is that, though he changes every three days about everything else in the world, he has never changed
