Sir Claude examined his belief. "Of course I know she's wonderful."
"She's just every bit as fond of you as I am," said Maisie.
"She told me so yesterday."
"Ah then," he promptly exclaimed, "she HAS tried to affect you! I don't love HER, don't you see? I do her perfect justice," he pursued, "but I mean I don't love her as I do you, and I'm sure you wouldn't seriously expect it. She's not my daughter—come, old chap! She's not even my mother, though I dare say it would have been better for me if she had been. I'll do for her what I'd do for my mother, but I won't do more." His real excitement broke out in a need to explain and justify himself, though he kept trying to correct and conceal it with laughs and mouthfuls and other vain familiarities. Suddenly he broke off, wiping his moustache
