"No. That is true. But his letter to me as your guardian and trustee ought to be regarded equitably as part of the will; and I do not see how it would be possible for me to acquiesce in something so directly contrary to his last wishes. I beg you to look at it from my point of view--" "I do"--said Delia, flushing again. "But my letter warned you--" "Yes--but I felt on receiving it that you could not possibly be aware of the full strength of your father's feeling. Let me read you his words." He took an envelope from his pocket, observing her. Delia hastily interposed. "Don't, Mr. Winnington!--I'm sure I know." "It is really my duty to read it to you," he said, courteously but firmly. She endured it. The only sign of agitation she shewed was the trembling of her hands on the back of the chair she leant upon. And when he returned it to his pocket, she considered for a moment or two, before she said, breathing unevenly, and stumbling a little.-- "That makes no difference, Mr. Winnington. I expect you think me a monster. All the same I loved my father in my own way. But I am not going to barter away my freedom for anything or anyone. I am not part of my father, I am myself. And he is not here to be injured or hurt by anything I do. I intend to stick to Gertrude Marvell--and she to me." And having delivered her ultimatum, she stood like a young goddess, expectant and defiant. Winnington's manner changed. He straightened himself, with a slight shake of his broad shoulders, and went to look out of the window at the end of the room. Delia was left to contemplate the back of a very tall man in a serge suit and to rate herself for the thrill--or the trepidation--she could not help feeling. What would he say when he spoke again? She was angry with herself that she could not quite truthfully say that she did not care. When he returned, she divined another man. The tone was as courteous as ever, but the first relation between them had disappeared; or rather it had become a business relation, a relation of affairs. "You will of course understand--that I cannot _acquiesce_ in that arrangement?" Delia's uncomfortable sense of humor found vent in a laugh--as civil however as she could make it. "I do understand. But I don't quite see what you can do, Mr. Winnington!" He smiled--quite pleasantly. "Nor do I--just yet. But of course Miss Marvell will not expect that your father's estate should provide her with the salary that would naturally fall to a chaperon whom your guardian could approve?" "I shall see to that. We shall not trouble you," said Delia, rather fiercely. "And I shall ask to see Miss Marvell before I go this morning--that I may point out to her the impropriety of remaining here against your father's express wishes." Delia nodded. "All right--but it won't do any good." He made no reply, except to turn immediately to the subject of her place of residence and her allowance.