'Where to?'
'I don't know. My lawyers have written to Mrs. Jennett; and I've got to be educated somewhere, —in France, perhaps,—I don't know where; but I shall be glad to go away.'
'I shan't like it a bit. I suppose I shall be left. Look here, Maisie, is it really true you're going? Then these holidays will be the last I shall see anything of you; and I go back to school next week. I wish—'
The young blood turned his cheeks scarlet. Maisie was picking grass-tufts and throwing them down the slope at a yellow sea-poppy nodding all by itself to the illimitable levels of the mud-flats and the milk-white sea beyond.
'I wish,' she said, after a pause, 'that I could see you again some time. You wish that too?'
'Yes, but it would have been better if—if—you had—shot straight over there—down by the breakwater.'
Maisie looked with large eyes for a moment. And this was the boy who only ten days before had decorated Amomma's horns with cut-paper ham-frills and turned him out, a bearded derision, among the public ways! Then she dropped her eyes: this was not the boy.
'Don't be stupid,' she said reprovingly, and
