d often enough
seen her do before, covered her face with her hands. "They ought to, at
least. The situation's too monstrous!"

Maisie stood there a moment--she looked about the room. "I'll go to
him--I'll find him."

"_I_ won't! I won't go NEAR them!" cried Mrs. Wix.

"Then I'll see him alone." The child spied what she had been looking
for--she possessed herself of her hat. "Perhaps I'll take him out!" And
with decision she quitted the room.

When she entered the salon it was empty, but at the sound of the opened
door some one stirred on the balcony, and Sir Claude, stepping straight
in, stood before her. He was in light fresh clothes and wore a straw hat
with a bright ribbon; these things, besides striking her in themselves
as the very promise of the grandest of grand tours, gave him a certain
radiance and, as it were, a tropical ease; but such an effect only
marked rather more his having stopped short and, for a longer minute
than had ever at such a juncture elapsed, not opened his arms to her.
His pause made her pause and enabled her to reflect that he must have
been up some time, for there were no traces of breakfast; and that
though it was so late he had rather markedly not caused her to be called
to him. Had Mrs. Wix been right about their forfeiture of the salon? Was
it all his now, all his and Mrs. Beale's? Such an idea, at the rate her
small thoughts throbbed, could only remind her of the way in which what
had been hers hitherto was what was exactly most Mrs. Beale's and his.
It was strange to be standing there and greeting him across a gulf,
for he had by this time spoken, smiled and said: "My dear child, my
dear child!" but without coming any nearer. In a flash she saw he was
different--more so than he knew or designed. The next minute indeed it
was as if he caught an impression from her face: this made him hold out
his hand. Then they met, he kissed her, he laughed, she thought he even
blushed: something of his affection rang out as usual. "Here I am, you
see, again--as I promised you."

It was not as he had promised them--he had not promised them Mrs. Beale;
but Maisie said nothing about that. What she said was simply: "I knew
you had come. Mrs. Wix told me."

"Oh yes. And where is she?"

"In her room. She got me up--she dressed me."

Sir Claude looked at her up and down; a sweetness of mockery that she
particularly loved came out in his face whenever he did that, and it
was not wanting now. He ra