"Do you really think I would submit to that?" she said. "I am not a child, I assure you, whatever I may appear to you. You will certainly never manage me by that sort of means." Her clear, emphatic voice fell without agitation. Now that the first shock of the encounter was past she had herself quite firmly in hand. But Mrs. Ingleton took her up swiftly, realizing possibly that a moment's delay would mean the yielding of the ground she had so arrogantly claimed. "I shall manage you exactly as I choose," she said, raising her voice with abrupt violence. "I know very well your position in this house. You are absolutely dependent, and--unless you marry--you will remain so, being quite unqualified to earn your own living. Therefore the whip-hand is mine, and if I find you insolent or intractable I shall use it without mercy. How dare you set yourself against me in this way?" She stamped with sudden fury upon the ground. "No, not a word! Leave the room instantly--I will have no more of it! Do you hear me, Sylvia? Do you hear me?" She raised a menacing hand, but the fearless eyes never flinched. "I think you must be mad," Sylvia said. "Mad!" raved Mrs. Ingleton. "Mad because I refuse to be dictated to by an impertinent girl? Mad because I insist upon being mistress in my own house? You--you little viper--how dare you stand there defying me? Do you want to be turned out into the street?" She had worked herself up into unreasoning rage again. Sylvia saw that further argument would be worse than useless. Very quietly, without another word, she turned, gathered up riding-whip and gloves, and went from the room. She heard Mrs. Ingleton utter a fierce, malignant laugh as she went. CHAPTER IV THE VICTOR The commencement of the fox-hunting season was always celebrated by a dance at the Town Hall--a dance which Sylvia had never failed to attend during the five years that she had been in society and had been a member of the Hunt. It was at her first Hunt Ball, on the occasion of her _debut_, that she had met young Guy Ranger, and she looked back to that ball with all its tender reminiscences as the beginning of all things. How superlatively happy she had been that night! Not for anything that life could offer would she have parted with that one precious romance of her girlhood. She clung to the memory of it as to a priceless possession. And year after year she had gone to the Hunt Ball with that memory close in her heart.