y halves; and if Dorothea
needed discipline she had better get it thoroughly, and be done with it.
It was not a thing which he, Derek, would want to see last forever; but
while it did last it ought to be effective, and he would look to Diane
to make it so. As it was not becoming that a daughter of his should need
a bodyguard of youths, Diane would undertake the task of breaking up
Dorothea's circle. Young men might still be permitted "to call," but
under Diane's supervision, while Dorothea sat in the background, as a
maiden should. Diane would make it a point to know the lads personally,
so as to discriminate between them, and exclude those who for one reason
or another might not be desirable friends. As for Mr. Carli Wappinger,
the door was to be rigorously shut against him. Here the question was
not one of gradual elimination, but of abrupt termination to the
acquaintanceship. He must request Diane to see to it that, as far as
possible, Dorothea neither met the young man, nor held communication
with him, on any pretext whatever. He laid down no rule in the case of
Mrs. Wappinger, but it would follow as a natural consequence that the
mother should be dropped with the son. These might seem drastic measures
to Dorothea, to begin with; but she was an eminently reasonable child,
and would soon come to recognize their wisdom. After all, they were only
the conditions to which, as he had been given to understand, other young
girls were subjected, so that she would have nothing to complain of in
her lot. The probability of his own departure for South America, with an
absence lasting till the spring, would make it necessary for Diane to
use to the full the powers with which he commissioned her. He trusted
that he made himself clear.

For some minutes after he ceased speaking Diane sat looking meditatively
at the fire. When she spoke her voice was low, but the ring of decision
in it was not to be mistaken.

"I'm afraid I couldn't accept the position, Mr. Pruyn."

Derek's start of astonishment was that of a man who sees intentions he
meant to be benevolent thrown back in his face.

"You couldn't--? But surely--?"

"I mean, I couldn't do that kind of work."

"But I thought you were looking for it--or something of the sort."

"Yes; something of the sort, but not precisely that."

"And it's precisely that that I wish to have done," he said, in a tone
that betrayed some irritation; "so I suppose there is no more to be
said."