e meantime, neither Gyp nor the baby must go out.
Gyp spent the morning writing and rewriting to Monsieur Harmost, trying
to express her chagrin, but not saying that she had left Fiorsen.

Her father came back from Westminster quiet and angry. He had with
difficulty been made to understand that the baby was Fiorsen's property,
so that, if the fellow claimed it, legally they would be unable to
resist. The point opened the old wound, forced him to remember that his
own daughter had once belonged to another--father. He had told the
lawyer in a measured voice that he would see the fellow damned first, and
had directed a deed of separation to be prepared, which should provide
for the complete payment of Fiorsen's existing debts on condition that he
left Gyp and the baby in peace. After telling Gyp this, he took an
opportunity of going to the extempore nursery and standing by the baby's
cradle. Until then, the little creature had only been of interest as
part of Gyp; now it had for him an existence of its own--this tiny,
dark-eyed creature, lying there, watching him so gravely, clutching his
finger. Suddenly the baby smiled--not a beautiful smile, but it made on
Winton an indelible impression.

Wishing first to settle this matter of the deed, he put off going down to
Mildenham; but "not trusting those two scoundrels a yard"--for he never
failed to bracket Rosek and Fiorsen--he insisted that the baby should not
go out without two attendants, and that Gyp should not go out alone. He
carried precaution to the point of accompanying her to Monsieur Harmost's
on the Friday afternoon, and expressed a wish to go in and shake hands
with the old fellow. It was a queer meeting. Those two had as great
difficulty in finding anything to say as though they were denizens of
different planets. And indeed, there ARE two planets on this earth!
When, after a minute or so of the friendliest embarrassment, he had
retired to wait for her, Gyp sat down to her lesson.

Monsieur Harmost said quietly:

"Your letter was very kind, my little friend--and your father is very
kind. But, after all, it was a compliment your husband paid me." His
smile smote Gyp; it seemed to sum up so many resignations. "So you stay
again with your father!" And, looking at her very hard with his
melancholy brown eyes, "When will you find your fate, I wonder?"

"Never!"

Monsieur Harmost's eyebrows rose.

"Ah," he said, "you think! No, that is impossible!"