“Do not prevaricate. Look me straight in the face and tell me. You were dressed in brown of rich shade and good material. You had a stylish and fanciful and hideous hat upon your head; it had feathers. My very breath was arrested when I saw the merry-andrew you made of yourself. You had furs, too—doubtless imitations, but still, to all appearance, rich furs—round neck and wrist. Sylvia, have you during these months and years been secretly saving money?”
“No, father.”
“You say ‘No, father,’ in a very strange tone. If you had no money to buy the dress, how did you get it?”
“It was—given to me.”
“By whom?”
“But you must say.”
Here Mr. Leeson took Sylvia by both her wrists; he held them tightly in his bony hands. He was seated, and he pulled her down towards him.
“Tell me at once. I insist upon knowing.”
“I cannot—there! I will not.”