“What do you call a turn?” she enquired, looking back into his eyes, with a true family stare; the girl had a spice of the devil in her, that was certain. “You will live with me in Hill Street,” he announced pompously; and seeing that this fact made no impression, “have a motor, and a maid.” “Yes?” The ‘yes’ was cool and indifferent. “As many frocks and gewgaws as you want, and theatres and dances--those are not in _my_ line. I’ll take you racing; I’ve a string of horses in training.” “I love racing,” she admitted. “I’ve only seen races once, and that was here.” “Bah!” with a gesture of contempt, “a set of platers! And so you are on the move at last?” “Yes; we are going to live with Mrs. Hesketh.” “That old beldame! Well, you can choose between Thornby and Sharsley. I won’t have any half measures--you understand that?” “Am I to be mistress of the house?” she asked hardily. “I have an aunt, I believe?” “You have very much an aunt--she’d make _two_--but she will move into her own flat. You look as if you could hold your own, and sit at the head of a table, and square on a horse.” “I daresay I can soon learn English ways, and I’m sure I could ride--but I don’t like leaving mother.” “I daresay not! You don’t know what is good for you--and you can’t well bring her along, can you? It must be one of us, or the other--Glyn or Blagdon!” “Yes, I know,” and Cara rose, and walked slowly over to the window, and looked out. She was weighing the vital question, ‘father or mother’? As she stood irresolute, her eyes fell upon a splendid motor drawn up below the hotel--_le dernier mot_ of luxury, and extravagance. “That’s my car,” announced her father, who had followed, and was now looking over her shoulder. “If you decide on _me_, we will go off this evening, and I must give the chauffeur instructions about getting to Dover. You and I will go straight to Paris, and there you can rig yourself out before we go home--and the sooner we make a start the better.” “Do you really mean, that we are to leave here to-day?” stammered Cara; who had been thinking of debating the matter, and making up her mind, at leisure. “Oh, yes--it’s now or never.” Cara turned pale and then red. “I want to get back for the Leger; you can settle into Hill Street.” Noticing her change of colour, he became more urgent. “Your grandmother’s lot will take you up--the old Scropes are tremendous swells, and your cousins the Calthorpes and Montfords will trot you out and present you at Court, and all that sort of thing--balls, and so on. Of course, you are a bit young; but, as I tell you, you _look_ old--old enough to sport the Blagdon diamonds; and the family diamonds are quite top-hole! There isn’t a finer show in any opera-house.”