the dancer, and murmuring in the quaint shibboleth of French and English
she had imbibed from old Virginie.

On one of these occasions Hugh came upon the two unexpectedly and
brought the performance to a summary conclusion.

"That will do, Diane," he said icily. "I should have thought you would
have had more self-respect than to dance--in that fashion--in front of a
child."

"It is, then, a sin to dance--as it is to be married?" demanded Diane
bitterly, abruptly checked in an exquisite spring-flower dance of her
own invention.

"I forbid it; that is sufficient," replied Hugh sternly.

His assumption of arrogant superiority was unbearable. Diane's
self-control wavered under it and broke. She turned and upbraided him
despairingly, alternately pleading and reproaching, battering all her
slender forces uselessly against his inflexible determination.

"This is a waste of time, Diane--mine, anyway," he told her. And left
her shaken with grief and anger.

Driven by a sense of utter revolt, she stormed her way to Catherine, who
was composedly sorting sheets in the linen room.

"I will not bear it!" she burst out at her furiously. "What have I done
that I should be treated as an outcast--a pariah?"