move out except with her."

"My dear child, you would not go about London unchaperoned!"

"There is a difference," she retorted, "between a chaperon and a
jailer."

Mr. Fentolin sighed. He shook his head slowly. He seemed pained.

"I am not sure that you repay my care as it deserves, Esther," he
declared. "There is something in your deportment which disappoints
me. Never mind, your brother has made some atonement. I entrusted
him with a little mission in which I am glad to say that he has
been brilliantly successful."

"I cannot say that I am glad to hear it," Esther replied quietly.

Mr. Fentolin sat back in his chair. His long fingers played
nervously together, he looked at her gravely.

"My dear child," he exclaimed, in a tone of pained surprise, "your
attitude distresses me!"

"I cannot help it. I have told you what I think about Gerald and
the life he is compelled to live here. I don't mind so much for
myself, but for him I think it is abominable."

"The same as ever," Mr. Fentolin sighed. "I fear that this little
change has done you no good, dear niece."