“What nonsense!” cried he, with an attempt at good humor. “Where’ll you stay?” “Here for the present.” “Do you think the Kinnears will harbor you?” “I’m always welcome here.” “As my daughter. But just as soon as they--any of the people you know, for that matter--find out that I regard anyone who’s receiving you as abetting you in your folly and disobedience----” “The Kinnears are _my_ friends,” said Beatrice coldly. “You exaggerate yourself, papa--or, rather, your money.” Richmond laughed--a vain, imperious, ugly laugh. “I can make the old woman upstairs put you out of the house in two minutes--and Allie will be afraid to speak to you.” Beatrice gave a disdainful smile. “These Kinnears--and about everyone you know--have large investments in the things I control.” And his tone and the twinkle in his eyes made the words conjure dire visions of possible catastrophe. “Oh!” exclaimed Beatrice, paling. She looked at him with startled eyes. “I see.... I see.” She was calm and self-contained again. “I must not get my friends into trouble. Yes--I’ll leave at once. I’ll go to a hotel.” At this he lost patience. “You force me to be severe with you,” said he, coming close to her and shaking his fist in her face. “Now listen, young lady. You are going home with me. And you are going to marry Vanderkief within six weeks.” Beatrice’s expression was, in its way, quite as unpleasant as her father’s. “You can’t ruin _me_, father,” said she with an ugly little laugh. “What you gave me is invested in Governments.” Richmond ground his teeth. “Don’t remind me of my infernal folly. But I’ve had a valuable lesson. Not another cent do I give away till I’m dead.” “As soon as I can support myself,” said Beatrice, “you’ll get back what you gave me.” “Support yourself!” Richmond laughed--with real heartiness. He was surveying her standing there, in a fashionable carriage dress and looking engagingly fine and useless. “What could _you_ do?” “That remains to be seen,” said Beatrice, flushing with mortification. “Enough of this!” cried Richmond. “You certainly can’t think me so weak and meek that I’d let you marry that fortune-hunting painter chap. I’ll explain.” “Not to me,” said Beatrice, walking calmly to the door. “Good-by, father.” “If you don’t do as I say,” exclaimed Richmond, “I’ll ruin him.” Beatrice stopped short. She did not turn round, but from the crown of her head to the sweep of her skirt her whole figure expressed attention. “He has a small competence--left him by an aunt,” pursued Richmond, tranquil now. “I’ll wipe it out. I’ll make him a beggar, and then I’ll see that he is driven from the country.” Beatrice turned round. “You--would do--_that_!” she said slowly. “Just that--and probably more,” her father assured her genially. “I think I have a little power--despite the belief of certain members of my family to the contrary.”