“I have not taken any steps to get rid of you. I did not invite you, in the first place, you will remember; you came of your own will. But I was very willing to make the best of it. I let Frances go, who suited me--whom I had brought up--for your sake. All the rest has been your doing. Young Gaunt was never invited by me. I have had no hand in those rambles of yours. But since you find so much pleasure in his society----” “Papa, you know I don’t find pleasure in his society; you know----” “Then why do you seek it?” said Waring, with that logic which is so cruel. Constance, on the other side of the table, was as red as the anemones, and far more brilliant in the glow of passion. “I have not sought it,” she cried. “I have let him come--that is all. I have gone when Mrs Gaunt asked me. Must a girl marry every man that chooses to be silly? Can I help it, if he is so vain? It is only vanity,” she said, springing up from her chair, “that makes men think a girl is always ready to marry. What should I marry for? If I had wanted to marry---- Papa, I don’t wish to be disagreeable, but it is _vulgar_, if you force me to say it--it is common to talk to me so.” “I might retort,” said Waring. “Oh yes, I know you might retort. It is common to amuse one’s self. So is it common to breathe and move about, and like a little fun when you are young. I have no fun here. There is nobody to talk to, not a thing to do. How do you suppose I am to get on? How can I live without something to fill up my time?” “Then you must take the consequences,” he said.