"Clarissa's visits to Austin! What, in heaven's name, do you mean?"
"What, papa! is it possible you are ignorant of the fact? I thought that, though my stepmother never talked to me of her visits to the Rue du Chevalier Bayard, you of course knew all about them. Though I hardly supposed you would encourage such an intimacy."
"Encourage such an intimacy! You must be dreaming, girl. My wife visit a portrait-painter—a single man?"
"He is not a single man, papa. There is a wife, I understand; though he never mentioned her to us. And Clarissa visits them almost every day."
"I don't believe it. What motive could she have for cultivating such people?"
"I can't imagine—except that she is fond of that kind of society, and of painting. She may have gone to take lessons of Mr. Austin. He teaches, I know."
Daniel Granger was silent. It was not impossible; and it would have been no crime on his wife's part, of course. But the idea that Clarissa could have done such a thing without his knowledge and approval, offended him beyond measure. He could hardly realize the possibility of such an act.
"There is some misapprehension on your part, Sophia, I am convinced," he said. "If Clarissa had wished to take drawing lessons from Austin, she would have told me so."
"There is no possibility of a mistake on my part, papa. I am not in the habit of making statements which I cannot support."
"Who told you of these visits? Clarissa herself?"