"And you've said it sufficiently. When my children turn against me—"
"Nonsense, father! Your children don't do anything of the sort. We're perfect sheep. You drive us wherever you like. But, however much we can stand ourselves, we can't help kicking when you attack some one who doesn't quite belong to us and who's a great deal better than we are."
Mrs. Billing crowed again:
"Brava, Ethel! Never supposed you had the pluck."
Ethel turned her attention to the other side of her corsage.
"Oh, it isn't a question of pluck; it's one of exasperation. Injustice after a while gets on one's nerves. I've had a better chance of knowing Alix Adare than any one; and you can take it from me that, when it comes to a question of breeding, she's the genuine pearl and we're only imitations—all except Mildred."
Both of Mr. Brokenshire's handsome hands went up together. He took a step forward as if to save Mrs. Rossiter from a danger.
"My daughter!"
The pale-rose heap on the other side of the room raised its dainty head.
"It's true, Howard; it's true! Please believe it!"