“The gaieties of London, I fear,” he protested gently, “have proved a little unsettling.”
“There were no gaieties for me,” the girl replied bitterly. “Mrs. Sargent obeyed your orders very faithfully. I was not allowed to move out except with her.”
“My dear child, you would not go about London unchaperoned!”
“There is a difference,” she retorted, “between a chaperon and a jailer.”
Mr. Fentolin sighed. He shook his head slowly. He seemed pained.
“I am not sure that you repay my care as it deserves, Esther,” he declared. “There is something in your deportment which disappoints me. Never mind, your brother has made some atonement. I entrusted him with a little mission in which I am glad to say that he has been brilliantly successful.”
“I cannot say that I am glad to hear it,” Esther replied quietly.
Mr. Fentolin sat back in his chair. His long fingers played nervously together, he looked at her gravely.
“My dear child,” he exclaimed, in a tone of pained surprise, “your attitude distresses me!”
“I cannot help it. I have told you what I think about Gerald and the life he is compelled to live here. I don’t mind so much for myself, but for him I think it is abominable.”