"Then don't put up with them. Don't you see that in putting up with them you are responsible for their existence. It's up to you to make a stand for the good of the next generation." "That's not as simple as it sounds when one has to exist," she said. "No." He was silent for a moment, then he returned to the attack. "Well, you are coming with me to-night. Tell her what you like--only come." Events combined that evening to facilitate matters for Brenda. Several of the younger people staying in the house arranged a walk to Camps Bay for that evening: the plan was under discussion during dinner, so audible a discussion that Mrs Graham could not avoid hearing it at her table in the corner. Brenda also listened with attention; and the manner in which she intended to put her request framed itself in her thoughts. After dinner she approached Mrs Graham with her sentences well considered. "There is a walk on to-night," she observed, with the faintest trace of nervousness apparent in her manner, and a consciousness of wilfully deceiving. "It is such a perfect evening... I wonder if you would let me have to-night off?" "To-night?" Mrs Graham's tone was expostulatory. "What am I to do for the reading?" "I'm sorry." The girl's face looked mutinous; there was an obstinate ring in her voice. She was not going to give in. Matheson had made that point clear. She had to make a stand. "I will read longer to-morrow if I may have to-night... only to-night I won't be inconsiderate afterwards." She felt that it was weak to promise that Why, after all, should she not have a night free occasionally? "But they will be away hours," Mrs Graham objected. "I shall be in bed before you get back. There will be no one to massage my shoulder." It trembled on Brenda's lips to promise to massage it in the morning; but deciding that this was weak also she remained obstinately silent. Something in the girl's manner, perhaps the unrelenting quiet of her air; convinced Mrs Graham that opposition would avail nothing. In the teeth of determined resistance she gave way. "Well, of course, if you really wish to go..." she conceded with sufficient ungraciousness. "But it is very inconvenient. I should have thought that you had had plenty of free time lately." She felt distinctly aggrieved. And she held a prejudice against these expeditions when her young companion formed one of the number. There was something not altogether seemly in the idea. "I hope you won't be very late," she said. Brenda followed the party from the house, and contrived to separate from it outside the gate. She took an unnecessary turn round a block of buildings, and came out again upon the main road and made her way on to the beach. Matheson came forward eagerly and caught her hands.