“You know _me_, mother. You know I always do what I say I’ll do. Didn’t I cut off my hair close to my head when I was eight because you insisted on those foolish curls? Didn’t I----” “You have always been obstinate and troublesome,” interrupted her mother. “I’ve warned your father you would make a wreck of your life. But he wouldn’t heed me.” “Father and I understand each other,” said Beatrice. “You think he will consent to your marrying that common, poor artist?” demanded her mother excitedly. “Well, for once you are mistaken. In some ways I know your father better than you do. And when it comes to any such insanity as that----” “Don’t agitate yourself, mother.” “He’ll cut you off if you do it. I shouldn’t be surprised if he should turn against you as soon as he hears you have thought of such a thing.” Beatrice listened calmly. “That remains to be seen,” said she. “I think you’ve lost your mind, Beatrice,” cried her mother, between railing and wailing. “I think so, too,” replied Beatrice, dreamy-eyed. “Yes, I’m sure I have.” “This isn’t a bit like you.” “No, not a bit. I thought I was hard as--as you’ve brought me up to be. I thought I cared only for the material things.” “What _is_ the matter with you?” “I want _him_,” said the girl, lips compressing resolutely. Presently she added, “And I’m going to get him--at any cost.” “Trapped by an adventurer! You!” Beatrice laughed. “You ought to hear Chang on that subject.” Her mother started up. “You don’t mean it’s gone as far as that?” “As what?” “You haven’t talked about such things to him?” “Long ago,” said the daughter coolly. Mrs. Richmond, all a-quiver with fright and fury, moved toward the door. “I shall telephone for your father at once!” “Do.” “We will have you put away somewhere.” “I’m of age.” Mrs. Richmond could not altogether conceal how this terse reminder had discomfited her. “Your father will know how to deal with this,” said she, trying to cover the essential weakness of the remark by a savagely threatening tone. “I hope so,” said the girl, unmoved. “You see--the fact is--Chang has turned me down. I’ve got to get father to bring him round--some way.” Her mother, at the door into the anteroom where the telephones were, halted and whirled round. “What are you talking about?” she demanded. “I asked Mr. Wade to marry me. He refused. He is still refusing.” Mrs. Richmond, hand on the knob, seemed to give careful thought to each of these three highly significant little sentences. Her comment was even more compressed; she laughed harshly. “I saw that he was an unusually clever, experienced man.” Beatrice looked quickly at her mother with shrewd, inquiring eyes. “You think he’s afraid father will cut me off?” “Of course that’s it.” “I wonder?” said the girl thoughtfully. “I hope so--yet I’m afraid.” Mrs. Richmond’s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened with horror. At last she said witheringly: “You--_hope_--so!”