husband; in spite of the indignant tone of which Maisie had a greater sense than ever in her life before of not being personally noticed. It seemed to her that Sir Claude also grew pale as an effect of the loud defiance with which Ida twice repeated this question. He put her, instead of answering it, an inquiry of his own: "Who the devil have you got hold of now?" and at this her ladyship turned tremendously to the child, glaring at her as if she were an equal figure of guilt. Maisie received in petrifaction the full force of her mother's huge painted eyes—they were like Japanese lanterns swung under festive arches. But life came back to her from a tone suddenly and strangely softened. "Go straight to that gentleman, my dear; I 've requested him to take you a few minutes. He's charming—go. I 've something to say to this creature."
Maisie felt Sir Claude immediately clutch her. "No, no—thank you; that won't do. She's mine."
"Yours?" It was confounding to Maisie to hear her speak quite as if she had never heard of Sir Claude before.
"Mine; you 've given her up. You 've not another word to say about her. I have her
