She had a burning sensation at the throat, and she was on
the verge of passionate tears. The memory of Isabel's parting embrace,
the tender drawing of her arms only a brief half-hour before made this
home-coming almost intolerable.
"What's that thing you're wearing?" demanded Mrs. Bathurst abruptly.
Dinah lifted the kettle and turned. "It is a fur-lined coat that--that he
bought for me in Paris."
"Then take it off!" commanded Mrs. Bathurst. "And don't you wear it again
until I give you leave! How dare you accept presents from the man before
I've even seen him?"
"I couldn't help it," murmured Dinah, as she slipped off the luxurious
garment that Isabel had chosen for her.
"Couldn't help it!" Bitterly Mrs. Bathurst echoed the words. "You'll say
you couldn't help him falling in love with you next! As if you didn't set
out to catch him, you little artful brown-faced monkey! Oh, I always knew
you were crafty, for all your simple ways. Mind, I don't say you haven't
done well for yourself, you have--a deal better than you deserve. But
don't ever say you couldn't help it to me again! For if you do, I'll
trounce you for it, do you hear? None of your coy airs for me! I won't
put up with 'em. You'll behave yourself as long as you're in this house,
or I'll know the reason why."
To all of which Dinah listened in set silence, telling herself with
desperate insistence that it would not be for long.
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