But Jacqueline was wary, as befitted one who made no pretence of scholarship, but who knew the old human story by heart, and daily recited it to one ardent listener.
"Oh, madame, it is not fitting—"
"Absurd! Tell me."
Jacqueline, hard pressed, sought refuge in a truth.
"My thoughts might displease madame."
Maxine sat straighter in her chair. Here was another matter!
"Ah, so that is it! Well, now I am determined. Now I will have the thoughts at any cost."
When Maxine spoke like this, when her lips closed upon her words, when her eyes rested unflinchingly upon her listener, she was wont to have her questions answered. Jacqueline recognized the moment, saw Maxine in all her proud foolishness, loved her with that swift intermingling of pity and worship that such beings as she inevitably call forth, finally tossed her little head in her most tantalizing manner and laughed.
"With madame's permission," she said, "I will wish her good-night!"
"The permission is not granted."