"Absolutely no!" said Mrs. Vanderlyn. "I'll run no risk of disagreeable comment. I have social enemies who would be too glad to pull me down. You must give her up to-day and go out of her life forever."
"I do not think she will consent to that. She, Madame—why, she loves her poor old father just a little."
"Of course, of course," she grudgingly admitted, "but she'll get over it. Ah, wait! I have it. You must find some way to make her think it's all your fault—that it's exactly what you want—"
"What I want! To give my little Anna up?"
"Certainly. If you are going to do it, you must burn your bridges behind you."
A big thought had been growing in Herr Kreutzer's mind. The execution of the plan which it suggested would involve the breaking of a resolution which had been unbroken for a score of years, but in emergency like this—
"Very well," said he. "Madame, my bridges burn!"
"You'll do it?"
"You shall see."
With a firm step and an erectness of fine carriage which surprised the weak, self-centred woman who was watching him, he stepped, now, to the door, and, opening it, called loudly: