ise her, you have got to endure her. But I
have not. And so I am going--to-day!"

Her voice rang clear and unfaltering. She looked him straight in
the eyes. He made a sharp movement, almost as if that full regard
pierced him.

He spoke with manifest effort. "You won't go with my consent."

"No?" said Sylvia. "Yet--you would never respect me again if I
stayed. I could never respect myself." She glanced over her
shoulder at the door which Mrs. Ingleton was violently shaking.
"You can let her out," she said contemptuously. "I have had my
turn. I leave her--in possession." She turned to go to the
stairs, then abruptly checked herself, stepped up to her father,
put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. The anger had gone
out of her eyes. "Good-bye, Dad! Think of me sometimes!" she said.

And with that she was gone, passing Preston by as though she saw
him not, and ascending the stairs quickly, but wholly without
agitation. They heard her firm, light tread along the corridor
above. Then with a hunch of the shoulders the squire turned and
unlocked the boudoir door.

Mrs. Ingleton burst forth in a fury. "You cad to keep me boxed up
here with that little serpent pouring all sorts of poison into your
ears! Where is she? Where is she? I'll give her such a trouncing
as she's never had before!"

But Ingleton stretched an arm in front of her, barring the way.
His face was grim and unyielding. "No, you won't!" he said.
"You'll leave her alone. She's my daughter--not yours. And you'll
not interfere with her any further."

There was a finality in his tone. Mrs. Ingleton stopped short,
glaring at him.

"You take her part, do you?" she demanded.

"On this occasion--yes, I do," said the squire.

"And what about me?" said Preston.

Ingleton looked at him--still barring his wife's progress--with a
faint, sardonic smile. "Well, she seems to have given you the
boot, anyway. If I were in your place, I should--quit."

"She'll repent it!" raved Mrs. Ingleton. "Oh, she will repent it
bitterly!"

"Very likely," conceded Ingleton. "But she's kicked over the
traces now, and that fact won't pull her up--anyhow, at present,"

Mrs. Ingleton's look held fierce resentment. "Are you going to let
her go?" she said.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Seeing I can't help myself, I suppose
I shall. There's no sense in making a fuss now. It's done, so you
leave her alone!"

Mrs. Ingleton turned upon Preston.