mention Sir Claude, though she mentioned him as little as possible and Beale only appeared to look quite over his head. It pieced itself together for her that this was the mildness of general indifference; a source of profit so great for herself personally that if the Countess was the author of it she was prepared literally to hug the Countess. She betrayed that eagerness by a restless question about her; to which her father replied: "Oh, she has a head on her shoulders—I 'll back her to get out of anything!" He looked at Maisie quite as if he would trace the connection between her inquiry and the impatience of her gratitude. "Do you mean to say," he presently went on, "that you 'd really come with me?"
She felt as if he were now looking at her very hard indeed, and also as if she had grown ever so much older. "I 'll do anything in the world you ask me, papa."
He gave again, with a laugh and with his legs apart, his proprietary glance at his waistcoat and trousers. "That 's a way, my dear, of saying 'No, thank you!' You know you don't want to go the least little mite. You can't humbug me!" Mr. Farange laid down. "I don't want to bully you—I never bullied
