really catch your boat," Sir Claude said distressfully to Mrs. Wix. He was out of it now, or wanted to be; he knew the worst and had accepted it; what now concerned him was to prevent, to dissipate vulgarities. "Won't you go—won't you just get off quickly?"
"With the child as quickly as you like. Not without her." Mrs. Wix was adamant.
"Then why did you lie to me, you fiend?" Mrs. Beale almost yelled. "Why did you tell me an hour ago that you had given her up?"
"Because I despaired of her—because I thought she had left me." Mrs. Wix turned to Maisie. "You were with them—in their connection. But now your eyes are open, and I take you!"
"No you don't!"—Mrs. Beale made, with a great fierce jump, a wild snatch at her stepdaughter. She caught her by the arm and, completing an instinctive movement, whirled her round in a further leap to the door, which had been closed by Sir Claude the instant their voices had risen. She fell back against it and, even while denouncing and waring off Mrs. Wix, kept it closed in an incoherence of passion. "Yon don't take her, but you bundle yourself; she stays with her own people and she 's rid of
