took up the mass of it with some force of hand, went on with a sharp recall: "Your mother adored him at first—it might have lasted. But he began too soon with Mrs. Beale. As you say," she pursued with a free application of the brush, "you brought them together."
"I brought them together"—Maisie was ready to reaffirm it. She felt, none the less, for a moment, at the bottom of a hole; then she seemed to see a way out. "But I didn't bring mamma together." She just faltered.
"With all those gentlemen?"—Mrs. Wix pulled her up. "No; it isn't quite so bad as that."
"I only said to the Captain"—Maisie had the quick memory of it—"that I hoped he at least (he was awfully nice!) would love her and keep her."
"And even that wasn't much harm," threw in Mrs. Wix.
"It was n't much good," Maisie was obliged to recognize. "She can't bear him—not even a mite. She told me at Folkestone."
Mrs. Wix suppressed a gasp; then after a bridling instant during which she might
