Pamela turned pale, and hesitated.
“I don’t want to——” she began.
But Mademoiselle Laure cut her short.
“It is not a question of what you want, but of what you must do,” she said sharply. “You admit your father is your proper guardian, and that you are bound to go where he chooses?”
“Ye-es, but——”
The woman turned haughtily to Audrey.
“You can retire, Madame,” she said; “hide yourself in any corner you please, with your husband and your friends. I am going to take these dear girls to their father.”
Babs clung to Audrey.
“She shall go with us then,” cried she.
For one moment Mademoiselle Laure, her face dark with suppressed rage, hesitated. Then, saying sharply:—