“See here, Yvonne,” he broke in sternly, “that is a matter we can't discuss. You do not understand, and I cannot explain certain things to you. I came here just now to ask you to be fair to him, even though I may not appear to be. You are------” “That is also a matter we cannot discuss,” said she calmly. “But it is a thing we are going to discuss, just the same,” said he. “Sit down, my dear, and listen to what I have to say. Sit down!” For a moment she faced him defiantly. He was no longer angry, and therein lay the strength that opposed her. She could have held her own with him if he had maintained the angry attitude that marked the beginning of their interview. As it was, her eyes fell after a brief struggle against the dominant power in his, and she obeyed, but not without a significant tribute to his superiority in the shape of an indignant shrug. “No one has ever lectured me before, James,” she said, affecting a yawn. “It will be a new and interesting experience.” “And I trust a profitable one,” said he rather grimly. “I shouldn't call it a lecture, however. A warning is better.” “That should be more thrilling, in any event.” He took one of her hands in his and stroked it gently, even patiently. “I will come straight to the point. Frederic is falling in love with you. Wait! I do not blame him. He cannot help himself. No more could I, for that matter, and he has youth, which is a spur that I have lost. I have watched him, Yvonne. He is--to put it cold-bloodedly--losing his head. Leaving me out of the question altogether, if you choose, do you think you are quite fair to him? I am not disturbed on your account or my own, but--well, can't you see what a cruel position we are likely to find ourselves------” “Just a moment, James,” she interrupted, sitting up very straight in the chair and meeting his gaze steadfastly. “Will you spare me the conjectures and come straight to the point as you have said? The warning, if you please.” He turned a shade paler. “Well,” he began deliberately, “it comes to this, my dear: one or the other of you will have to leave my house if this thing goes on.” She shot a glance of incredulity at his set face. Her body became rigid. “Do you know what you are saying?” “Yes.” “You would serve me as you served his real mother more than twenty years ago?” “The cases are not parallel,” said he, wincing. “You drove her out of your house, James.” “I have said that we cannot discuss------” “But I choose to discuss it,” she said firmly. “The truth, please. You drove her out?” “She made her bed, Yvonne,” said he huskily. “Did you warn her beforehand?” “It--it wasn't necessary.” “What was her crime?” “Good God, Yvonne! I can't allow------” “Was it as great as mine?” she persisted. “Oh, this is ridiculous. I------” “Did she leave you cheerfully, gladly, as I would go if I loved another, or did she plead with you--oh, I know it hurts! Did she plead with you to give her a chance to explain? Did she?”