"What I say," said Dorinda tartly. "Rupert makes good use of his fortune in helping the poor, and in keeping up the church. You would only waste it in buying jewels for your own satisfaction." "I won't be spoken to like this." "It is your own fault that I am so frank. If what I say doesn't please you, I can easily go to London to see my old schoolmistress and ask her to get me a position as a nursery governess." "You wouldn't do that?" "Yes, I would, and you know that I would. I should like to respect you and to love you, father, but I cannot. Your last action, in threatening to denounce an innocent man, widens the gulf between us. If you dare to go to Inspector Lawson, I shall go out as a governess until such time as Rupert is ready to marry me. Now you know exactly what I mean." Mallien did know, and was well aware that she would act precisely as she declared she would. It was no use to storm and bluster and try to reduce her to tears, as Dorinda was not a tearful woman. She knew how to hold her own and intended to hold it. Mallien, having tried rage, was reduced to attempting pathos, which he did very badly. "My own daughter! my own daughter!" he murmured sadly. "It's heartbreaking." "It's pretty uncomfortable, I grant you," answered Dorinda, with a queer smile, "for me as for you. But as you have made the position entirely yourself, I don't see what you have to complain of. But now that we understand one another, let us call a truce." "Very good. I will overlook your unfilial behavior and try to forget this conversation. All the same," cried Mallien, blazing up again, "I intend to get my rights." "Certainly. And if the will is found, you shall have them." This was cold comfort to Mallien, who doubted if the will ever would be found. Leigh might have made a mistake, and there might be no will in existence, in which case, by making an enemy of Rupert, he would be worse off than he was at present. He thought that until the truth came to light, it would be just as well to temporize, and let things stand as they were. Therefore, as an outward sign of reconciliation, he dropped a cold kiss on his daughter's white brow, and retreated to his study. Dorinda, left alone in the little dining-room, had no desire to eat any breakfast, as the struggle to secure Rupert's safety had exhausted her greatly. She hastily drank a cup of coffee, then wrote a note to her lover, saying that he need not be afraid of the intervention of the police, and relating in detail the conversation just ended. Having sent this by hand to The Big House, the girl went about her daily duties, resolutely cheerful. Only by assuming a bold front could she combat the great trouble which threatened to overwhelm her and her lover. When the worst came to the worst, there would be time enough to think of further defense. But Dorinda believed that further defense would not be required.