"Why, to live with us."

Mrs. Wix's laugh, at this, was literally wild. "'Us?' Thank you!"

"Then to live with ME."

The words made her friend jump. "You give me up? You break with me for
ever? You turn me into the street?"

Maisie, though gasping a little, bore up under the rain of challenges.
"Those, it seems to me, are the things you do to ME."

Mrs. Wix made little of her valour. "I can promise you that, whatever
I do, I shall never let you out of my sight! You ask me why it's
immorality when you've seen with your own eyes that Sir Claude has felt
it to be so to that dire extent that, rather than make you face the
shame of it, he has for months kept away from you altogether? Is it any
more difficult to see that the first time he tries to do his duty he
washes his hands of HER--takes you straight away from her?"

Maisie turned this over, but more for apparent consideration than from
any impulse to yield too easily. "Yes, I see what you mean. But at
that time they weren't free." She felt Mrs. Wix rear up again at the
offensive word, but she succeeded in touching her with a remonstrant
hand. "I don't think you know how free they've become."

"I know, I believe, at least as much as you do!"

Maisie felt a delicacy but overcame it. "About the Countess?"

"Your father's--temptress?" Mrs. Wix gave her a sidelong squint.
"Perfectly. She pays him!"

"Oh DOES she?" At this the child's countenance fell: it seemed to give a
reason for papa's behaviour and place it in a more favourable light. She
wished to be just. "I don't say she's not generous. She was so to me."

"How, to you?"

"She gave me a lot of money."

Mrs. Wix stared. "And pray what did you do with a lot of money?"

"I gave it to Mrs. Beale."

"And what did Mrs. Beale do with it?"

"She sent it back."

"To the Countess? Gammon!" said Mrs. Wix. She disposed of that plea as
effectually as Susan Ash.

"Well, I don't care!" Maisie replied. "What I mean is that you don't
know about the rest."

"The rest? What rest?"

Maisie wondered how she could best put it. "Papa kept me there an hour."

"I do know--Sir Claude told me. Mrs. Beale had told him."

Maisie looked incredulity. "How could she--when I didn't speak of it?"

Mrs. Wix was mystified. "Speak of what?"

"Why, of her being so frightful."

"The Countess? Of course she's frightful!" Mrs. Wix returned. After a
moment she added: "That's why she pays him."

Maisie pondered. "It's the b