“He was here this morning,” said Beatrice.
“Here!” exclaimed her mother. “What for?”
“For me.”
Jealousy sparkled in her mother’s hastily veiled eyes. “Trying to get you into his power again,” she sneered.
“I suppose so,” said Beatrice. “Yes—that must have been it.”
“Then you are coming home?”
“Oh, no.”
The jealousy passed; the mother returned. “But, Beatrice—he has changed his will and has cut you off. He’s leaving your portion to Hector.”
Beatrice looked uncomfortable. “I shan’t say I like that,” said she, “for it’d be false. But I’m not coming home, just the same. There’s been a great change in me, mother.”
“You always were headstrong,” said her mother. “I used to feel, when you were a baby, that the day would come when there’d be a clash between you and your father.”