Maisie's manner appreciated this. "Is it a French one?"
"No, nor French either. It's American."
Maisie conversed agreeably. "Ah, then, of course she is rich." She took in such a combination of nationality and rank. "I never saw anything so lovely."
"Did you have a sight of her?" Beale asked.
"At the Exhibition?" Maisie smiled. "She was gone too quick."
Her father laughed. "She did slope!" She was for a moment afraid he would say something about Mrs. Beale and Sir Claude: his unexpected gentleness was too mystifying. All he said was, the next minute: "She has a horror of vulgar scenes."
This was something Maisie need n't take up; she could still continue bland. "But where do you suppose she went?"
"Oh, I thought she 'd have taken a cab and have been here by this time. But she 'll turn up all right."
"I 'm sure I hope she will," Maisie said. She spoke with an earnestness begotten of the impression of all the beauty around her, to which, in person, the Countess might
