Page:What Maisie Knew (Chicago & New York, Herbert S. Stone & Co., 1897).djvu/308

294 treating bank-notes as if they were curlpapers!" Maisie's flush deepened both with the immense plausibility of this and with a fresh wave of the consciousness that was always there to remind her of his cleverness—the consciousness of how immeasurably more, after all, he knew about mamma than she. She had lived with her so many times without discovering the material of her curlpapers or assisting at any other of her dealings with bank-notes. The tight little ball had at any rate rolled away from her forever—quite like one of the other balls that Ida's cue used to send flying. Sir Claude gave her his arm again, and by the time she was seated at the table she had perfectly made up her mind as to the amount of the sum she had forfeited. Everything about her, however—the crowded room, the bedizened banquet, the savor of dishes, the drama of figures—ministered to the joy of life. After dinner she smoked with her friend—for that was exactly what she felt she did—on a porch, a kind of terrace, where the red tips of cigars and the light dresses of ladies made, under the happy stars, a poetry that was almost intoxicating. They talked but little, and she was slightly surprised at his