He answered her without moving, but his single word fell like a blow. “Now!”
There followed a terrific silence, during which it seemed to Frances that the wills of the man and the girl were in visible conflict though neither stirred or spoke. In the end there came a faint gasp from Nell, and she turned to obey.
Lucy started up with hysterical crying. “I’m going too, then—I’m going too!”
“You will stay where you are,” Arthur said, without turning his gaze from the younger sister.
She dropped back sobbing in the chair, and Nell went wordlessly to the door. Slowly she opened it, slowly passed out and closed it again.
Mrs. Dermot looked up at her son. “Elsie may take up her supper,” she said.
He shrugged his shoulders. “She can do as she likes.” He moved to his own place and sat down. His look came to Frances. “Sorry to treat you to this exhibition,” he said. “But discipline must be maintained.”
She met his look with the utmost directness. “Did you say discipline or tyranny?” she said.
She expected anger, was prepared for it, even desired it. But he only smiled.
“Yes, you may call it that,” he said. “But it’s in a good cause. Nell is getting above herself. She has got to learn. Lucy, sit up and behave yourself! You’ve nothing whatever to cry about. Good heavens, child! Why all this fuss?”