He took out his
handkerchief and wiped his eyes, imagining that he still had to deal
with the gentle sensitive girl, upon whom he had imposed so long and
so successfully.

Beth watched him a moment with contempt, and then she laughed.

"It is no use, friend Daniel," she said in her neat, incisive,
straightforward way. "I am not going to take you seriously any more. I
am neither to be melted by your convenient tears, nor dismayed by your
bogey bills. I have never seen any of those bills, by the way; the
next time you mention them, please produce them. Let us be
business-like. And in the meantime, just understand, once for all,
like a good man, that I am not going to be domineered over by you as
if I were a common degraded wife with every spark of spirit and
self-respect crushed out of me by one brutal exaction or another. I
shall do my duty--do my best to meet your reasonable wishes; but I
will submit to no ordering and no sort of exaction." She rose and
faced him. "And as we are coming to an understanding," she pursued,
"just explain. Why did you tell me that Miss Petterick was to be a
paying patient?"

"I never told you anything of the kind," said Dan, losing his head,
and lying stupidly in his astonishment.

Beth shrugged her shoulders. "It is your own business," she
rejoined--"at least it is you who will have to pay for her
entertainment."

She returned to her book as she spoke, and continued to read with
apparent calmness.

Now that she had taken up her position, she found herself quite strong
enough to hold it against any Dan Maclure or Bertha Petterick. But
Beth was being forced into an ugly and vulgar phase, and she knew and
resented it, and was filled with dismay. She was taking on something
of the colour of her surroundings involuntarily, inevitably, as
certain insects do, in self-defence. She had spoken to Dan in his own
tone in order to make him understand her; but was it necessary? Surely
if she had resisted the impulse to try that weapon, she might have
found another as effective, the use of which would not have
compromised her gentlehood and lessened her self-esteem. Her
dissatisfaction with herself for the part she had played was a cruel
ache, and she thanked Heaven for the chance which would mercifully
remove her from that evil atmosphere for a while, and prayed for time
to reflect, for strength to be her better self. She was angry with
herself, and grieved because she had fought Dan with his ow