Like the overwrought, half-beside-herself young hurricane of wrathfulness that she was, Betty burst into the library at Denby House a few minutes later. The very sight of her face brought the man to his feet. "Why, Betty, what's the matter? Where's your mother? Couldn't she come? What is the matter?" "Come? No, she didn't come. She'll never come--never!" Before the blazing wrath in the young eyes the man fell back limply. "Why, Betty, didn't you tell her--" "I've told her nothing. I haven't seen her," cut in the girl crisply. "But I've seen somebody else. I know now--everything!" From sheer stupefaction the man laughed. "Aren't we getting a little--theatrical, my child?" he murmured mildly. "You needn't call me that. I refuse to recognize the relationship," she flamed. "Perhaps we are getting theatrical--that woman said it was like a story-book. And perhaps you thought you could wipe it all out by adopting me. Adopting me, indeed! As if I'd let you! I can tell you it isn't going to _end_ like a story-book, with father and mother and daughter--'and they all lived happily ever after'--because I won't let it!" "What do you mean by that?" The man's face had grown suddenly very white. Betty fixed searching, accusing eyes on his countenance. "Are you trying to make me think you don't know I'm your daughter; that--" "Betty! Are you really, really--my little Betty?" At the joyous cry and the eagerly outstretched arms Betty shrank back. "Then you _didn't_ know--that?" "No, no! Oh, Betty, Betty, is it true? Then it'll all be right now. Oh, Betty, I'm so glad," he choked. "My little girl! Won't you--come to me?" She shook her head and retreated still farther out of his reach. Her eyes still blazed angrily. "Betty, dear, hear me! I don't know-- I don't understand. It's all too wonderful--to have it come--_now_. Once, for a little minute, the wild thought came to me that you might be. But, Betty, you yourself told me your father was--dead!" "And so he is--to me," sobbed Betty. "You aren't my father. My father was good and true and noble and--you--" "And your mother _told_ you that?" breathed the man, brokenly. "Betty, I--I-- Where is she? Is she there--at home--now? I want to--see her!" "I shan't let you see her." Betty had blazed again into unreasoning wrath. "You don't deserve it. You told her you were ashamed of her. _Ashamed of her!_ And she's the best and the loveliest and dearest mother in the world! She's as much above and beyond anything you--you-- _Why_ she let me come to you I don't know. I can't think why she did it. But now I--I--" "Betty, if you'll only let me explain--" But the great hall door had banged shut. Betty had gone. Betty took a car to her own home. She was too weak and spent to walk. It was a very white, shaken Betty that climbed the stairs to the little apartment a short time later. "Why, Betty, darling!" exclaimed her mother, hurrying forward. "You are ill! Are you ill?"