Oh yes, Maisie remembered. "Then can't he send—?" She faltered again; even to herself it sounded queer.
"Some of their money to his wife?" Mrs. Wix gave a laugh still stranger than the weird suggestion. "I dare say she 'd take it!"
They hurried on again; yet again, on the stairs, Maisie pulled up. "Well, if she had stopped in England!" she threw out.
Mrs. Wix considered. "And he had come over instead?"
"Yes, as we expected." Maisie launched her speculation. "What, then, would she have lived on?"
Mrs. Wix hung fire but an instant. "On other men!" And she marched downstairs.
XXVIII
Mrs. Beale, at table between the pair, plainly attracted the attention Mrs. Wix had foretold. No other lady present was nearly so handsome, nor did the beauty of any other accommodate itself with such art to the homage it produced. She talked
