"Sit down," he said briefly. His voice was harsh, his manner commanding. Hélène sat down. In front of Mr. Stanton lay a pile of letters. He pointed to them.
"Here are your letters to this man, and his letters to you. They were withheld by my orders."
"Then Joles," began Hélène.
"I am responsible, not Joles," he interrupted.
Hélène arose; the blood mounted to her face.
"Why have you done this?" she demanded.
"I wished to bring your association with this man to an end. I ordered him to be turned from the house, his letters kept from you and yours from him."
"But, father, why did you not come to me?" cried Hélène.
"Please don't interrupt me!" thundered Stanton. "I won't have that man in this house! Please understand that. Send for him, tell him you do not wish to continue your lessons, and dismiss him definitely, finally."
"Father, I cannot." Hélène could scarcely go on.