"I see. And what did she do?" Sir Claude asked.
Maisie was now busy with her breakfast, and her kind host attacked his own; so that it was all in form at least even more than their old sociability. "Everything she could think of. She was as nice to her as you are," the child said. "She talked to her all day."
"And what did she say to her?"
"Oh, I don't know." Maisie was a little bewildered with his pressing her so for knowledge; it didn't fit into the degree of intimacy with Mrs. Beale that Mrs. Wix had so denounced and that, according to that lady, had now brought him back in bondage. Was n't he more aware than his stepdaughter of what would be done by the person to whom he was bound? In a moment, however, she added: "She made love to her."
Sir Claude looked at her harder, and it was clearly something in her tone that made him quickly say: "You don't mind my asking you, do you?"
"Not at all; only I should think you'd know better than I."
"What Mrs. Beale did yesterday?"
She thought he colored a trifle; but
