ing Mrs. Wix, he broke into a kind of ecstasy. "She refused—she refused!"
Maisie, at this, found her voice. "I did n't refuse. I did n't," she said again.
It brought Mrs. Beale straight back to her. "You accepted, angel—you accepted!" She threw herself upon the child and before Maisie could resist had sunk with her upon the sofa, possessed of her, encircling her. "You 've given her up already, you 've given her up forever, and you 're ours and ours only now, and the sooner she 's off the better!"
Maisie had shut her eyes, but at a word of Sir Claude's they opened. "Let her go!" he said to Mrs. Beale.
"Never, never, never!" cried Mrs. Beale. Maisie felt herself more embraced.
"Let her go!" Sir Claude more intensely repeated. He was looking at Mrs. Beale, and there was something in his voice. Maisie knew, from a loosening of arms, that she had become conscious of what it was; she slowly rose from the sofa, and the child stood there again, dropped and divided. "You're free—you're free," Sir Claude went on; at which Maisie's back became aware of a push that vented resentment and
