"And there it is ready to boil over, and you haven't touched it, you worthless little hussy, you! Take that--and dare to disobey me again!" She dealt the girl a blow with her open hand as she spoke, a swinging, pitiless blow, on the cheek, and pushed her fiercely from her. Dinah reeled momentarily. The sudden violence of the attack bewildered her. Actually she had almost forgotten how dreadful her mother could be. Then, recovering herself, she went to the fire and stooped over it, without a word. 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. Sir Eustace did not mean to be kept waiting, and he would deliver her finally and for all time. She did not know exactly why her mother was angry. She supposed she resented the idea of losing her slave. There seemed no other possible reason, for love for her she had none. Dinah knew but too cruelly well that she had been naught but an unwelcome burden from the very earliest days of her existence. Till she met Isabel, she had never known what real mother-love could be. She wondered if her _fiancé_ would notice the red mark on her cheek when she carried in the teapot; but he was holding a careless conversation with her father, and only gave her a glance and a smile. During the meal that followed he scarcely addressed her or so much as looked her way. He treated her mother with a freezing aloofness that made her tremble inwardly. She wondered how he dared. When at length he rose to go, however, his attention returned to Dinah. He laid a dominating hand upon her shoulder. "Are you coming to see me off?"