"With all those gentlemen?"--Mrs. Wix pulled her up. "No; it isn't quite
so bad as that."
"I only said to the Captain"--Maisie had the quick memory of it--"that
I hoped he at least (he was awfully nice!) would love her and keep her."
"And even that wasn't much harm," threw in Mrs. Wix.
"It wasn't much good," Maisie was obliged to recognise. "She can't bear
him--not even a mite. She told me at Folkestone."
Mrs. Wix suppressed a gasp; then after a bridling instant during
which she might have appeared to deflect with difficulty from her odd
consideration of Ida's wrongs: "He was a nice sort of person for her to
talk to you about!"
"Oh I LIKE him!" Maisie promptly rejoined; and at this, with an
inarticulate sound and an inconsequence still more marked, her companion
bent over and dealt her on the cheek a rapid peck which had the apparent
intention of a kiss.
"Well, if her ladyship doesn't agree with you, what does it only prove?"
Mrs. Wix demanded in conclusion. "It proves that she's fond of Sir
Claude!"
Maisie, in the light of some of the evidence, reflected on that till her
hair was finished, but when she at last started up she gave a sign of no
very close embrace of it. She grasped at this moment Mrs. Wix's arm. "He
must have got his divorce!"
"Since day before yesterday? Don't talk trash."
This was spoken with an impatience which left the child nothing to
reply; whereupon she sought her defence in a completely different
relation to the fact.
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