He had made it sound like a bad joke. "I mean till Mrs. Wix leaves—in that boat."
Sir Claude looked almost foolish. "Is she going in that boat?"
"I suppose so. I won't even bid her good-bye," Maisie continued; "I 'll stay out till the boat has gone. I 'll go up to the old rampart."
"The old rampart?"
"I 'll sit on that old bench where you see the gold Virgin."
"The gold Virgin?" he vaguely echoed. But it brought his eyes back to her as if, after an instant, he could see the place and the thing she named could see her sitting there alone. "While I break with Mrs. Beale?"
"While you break with Mrs. Beale."
He gave a long, deep, smothered sigh. "I must see her first."
"You won't do as I do? Go out and wait?"
"Wait?"—once more he appeared at a loss.
"Till they both have gone," Maisie said.
"Giving us up?"
"Giving us up."
Oh, with what a face, for an instant, he
