"It would be only natural for me to do that, would it not?" he parried.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't mean that you might not try to exceed the limits Father has set for you; you might try that, and of course you would be prevented. But you will not" (she hesitated, and when she went on she was quoting her father) "—sacrifice your position here."
"Why not?"
"Because you tried to gain it—or—or if not exactly that, at least you had some object in wanting to be near Father which you have not yet gained." She hesitated once more, not looking at him. Her words were unconvincing to herself; that morning, when her father had spoken them, they had been quite convincing, but since this afternoon she was no longer sure of their truth. What it was that had happened during the afternoon she could not make out; instinctively, however, she felt that it had so altered Eaton's relations with them that now he might attempt to escape.
They had reached the front of the house, and a groom sprang to take the horse. She let Eaton help her down; as they entered the house, Avery—who had reached the house only a few moments before them—was still in the hall. And again she was startled in the meeting of the two men by Avery's triumph and the swift flare of defiance on Eaton's face.
As she went up to her apartments, her maid met her at the door.
"Mr. Santoine wishes you to dine with him, Miss Santoine," the maid announced.
"Very well," she answered.