"Have you held out?" she began as soon as the two doors at
the end of the passage were again closed on them.
Mrs. Wix looked hard at the flame of the candle. "Held out--?"
"Why, she has been making love to you. Has she won you over?"
Mrs. Wix transferred her intensity to her pupil's face. "Over to what?"
"To HER keeping me instead."
"Instead of Sir Claude?" Mrs. Wix was distinctly gaining time.
"Yes; who else? since it's not instead of you."
Mrs. Wix coloured at this lucidity. "Yes, that IS what she means."
"Well, do you like it?" Maisie asked.
She actually had to wait, for oh her friend was embarrassed! "My
opposition to the connexion--theirs--would then naturally to some extent
fall. She has treated me to-day as if I weren't after all quite such a
worm; not that I don't know very well where she got the pattern of her
politeness. But of course," Mrs. Wix hastened to add, "I shouldn't like
her as THE one nearly so well as him."
"'Nearly so well!'" Maisie echoed. "I should hope indeed not." She spoke
with a firmness under which she was herself the first to quiver. "I
thought you 'adored' him."
"I do," Mrs. Wix sturdily allowed.
"Then have you suddenly begun to adore her too?"
Mrs. Wix, instead of directly answering, only blinked in support of her
sturdiness. "My dear, in what a tone you ask that! You're coming out."
"Why shouldn't I? YOU'VE come out. Mrs. Beale has come out. We each have
our turn!" And Maisie threw off the most extraordinary little laugh that
had ever passed her young lips.
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