that was the effect of her trying not to make a noise.
It was doubtless another consequence of the thick mist through which she saw him that, in reply to her question, the Captain gave her such a queer blurred look. He hesitated; yet in his voice there was also the ring of a great awkward insistence. "Of course I 'm tremendously fond of her—I like her better than any woman I ever saw. I don't mind in the least telling you that," he went on; "and I should think myself a great beast if I did." Then, to show that his position was superlatively clear, he made her, with a kindness that even Sir Claude had never surpassed, tremble again as she had trembled at his first outbreak. He called her by her name, and her name drove it home. "My dear Maisie, your mother 's an angel!"
It was an almost incredible balm—it soothed so her impression of danger and pain. She sank back in her chair; she covered her face with her hands. "Oh, mother, mother, mother!" she sobbed. She had a vague sense that the Captain, beside her, though more and more friendly, was by no means unembarrassed; in a minute, however, when her eyes were clearer, he was erect
