next thing, she became conscious he paused for a reply to. "We did n't come, old girl, did we," he pleaded straight, "to stop right away forever and put it all in now?"
Maisie had never doubted she could be heroic for him. "Oh, no!" It was as if she had been shocked at the bare thought. "We're just taking it as we find it." She had a sudden inspiration, which she backed up with a smile. "We're just seeing what we can afford." She had never yet, in her life, made any claim for herself, but she hoped that this time, frankly, what she was doing would somehow be counted to her. Indeed she felt Sir Claude was counting it, though she was afraid to look at him—afraid she should show him tears. She looked at Mrs. Wix; she reached her maximum. "I don't think I should be bad to Mrs. Beale."
She heard on this a deep sound, something inarticulate and sweet, from Sir Claude; but tears were what Mrs. Wix did n't scruple to show. "Do you think you should be bad to me?" The question was the more disconcerting that Mrs. Wix's emotion didn't deprive her of the advantage of her effect. "If you see that woman again you 're lost!" she declared to their companion.
