Joan sank into a chair and made no answer. The woman’s violence beat her down and was hateful to her. Almost rather would she have faced Samuel Rock, for with him her sex gave her a certain advantage. “I know what you are after,” went on Mrs. Gillingwater, with gathering vehemence. “Do you suppose that I have not seen through you all these weeks, though you are so cunning? You are making up to him, you are; not that I have a word to say against him, for he is a nice gentleman enough, only, like the rest of them, so soft that he’ll let a pretty face fool him for all his seafaring in foreign parts. Well, look here, Joan: I’ll speak to you plain and plump. We never were mother and daughter, so it is no use pretending what we don’t feel, and I won’t put up with that from you which I might perhaps from my own child, if I had one. You’ve given me lots of truck with your contrary ways, ever since you were a little one, and I’m not minded to stand much more of it, for the profit don’t run to the worry. What I want you to understand is, that I am set on your pulling it off with Samuel Rock like a broody hen on a nest egg, and I mean to see that chick hatch out; never you mind for why—that’s my affair. If you can’t see your way to that, then off you go, and pretty sharp too. There, I have said my say, and you can think it over. Now you had best change your clothes and go and look after the Captain, for I have got business abroad to-night. If you don’t mend your manners, it will be for the last time, I can tell you.” Joan rose and obeyed without a word. Mrs. Gillingwater watched her pass, and fell into a reflective mood.