On any other occasion the scandalised horror in Agatha's voice would have roused Prudence to a defiant retort; but the afternoon's experience had subdued her spirit; she felt too crushed and miserable to resent her sister's amazed anger, or to heed the exchange of significant glances between the others. She was dimly aware that her father rose and approached her, but the pained displeasure of his look left her unmoved. It did not seem to her to matter particularly what happened, or what they thought of her; she was past caring about such things. "I thought I had given you quite clearly to understand that I did not wish you to pursue the acquaintance with Major Stotford," Mr Graynor said. Prudence's eyes fell. "I believed I could trust you," he added reproachfully; "and you don't even respect my wishes." "I will in future," she answered with unusual meekness. "It seemed ungracious to refuse after his kindness." "More particularly when it was against your own inclination," broke in Agatha. Mr Graynor raised a protesting hand. "Not now," he said. "We will speak of this later." And with a word of apology to Mr Jones, he left the room. Prudence followed him into the hall. "Daddy, I'm sorry," she said, and caught at his sleeve; but, for the first time within her memory, he repulsed her. "I don't want to hear any more," he said. "You have annoyed me exceedingly." He went on, leaving Prudence to realise the enormity of her conduct, and the hopelessness of expecting forgiveness in this quarter. She had offended him deeply. She ran upstairs and locked herself in her bedroom and sought relief from tears. The exasperating part of the affair lay in the wholly unnecessary attitude of inflexible veto adopted by her family. Prudence was not likely to repeat her mistake. Experience teaches its own lessons, and her experience had been sufficiently humiliating without any additional disgrace. She bore for a time with this state of affairs: when the general hostility became insupportable she set her mind to work to discover a remedy. As a result of this mental activity, Mr Edward Morgan received one morning the letter for which he had so long and so patiently waited. Mr Morgan read the letter in the privacy of his office, smiled, re-read it, examined it from all angles, and promptly proceeded to answer it, a light of satisfaction illumining his features as he wrote. And yet there was in the briefly worded note not much that a man could have twisted into any meaning conveying particular encouragement; nevertheless, the invitation for which he had waited had come at last; that sufficed for Mr Morgan. "It is so dull," Prudence had written. "When are you coming to pay your promised visit?" His answer read: "My dear Miss Prudence,--