She turned with the words to leave the room, and found her father
and George Preston just coming out of the library on the other side
of the hall. Fearlessly she swung round and confronted them. The
utter freedom of her at that moment made her superb. The miracle
had happened. She had rent the net that entangled her to shreds.

Mrs. Ingleton was beginning to clamour in the room behind her. She
turned swiftly and shut and locked the door. Then she faced the
two men with magnificent courage.

"I have to tell you," she said, addressing them both impersonally,
"that my engagement to Guy Ranger is unbroken. I have just found
out that my step-mother has been suppressing his letters to me.
That, of course, alters everything. And--also of course--it makes
it impossible for me to stay here any longer. I am going to
him--at once."

Her eyes went rapidly from her father's face to Preston's. It was
he who came forward and answered her. The squire seemed struck
dumb.

"Egad!" he said. "I've never seen you look so rippin' in all my
life! That's how you look when you're angry, is it? Now I shall
know what to watch out for when we're married."

She answered him with a quiver of scorn. "We never shall be
married, Mr. Preston. You may put that out of your mind for ever.
I am going to Guy by the next boat."

"Not you!" laughed Preston. "You're in a paddy just now, my dear,