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Eve raised her eyebrows and sighed.

“Your request is refused,” she said.

“Must I make it an order?”

Mrs. Broke stared.

“An order?” she said, rising.

“An order ... which I shall enforce.”

Jeremy watched the blood mount to the glorious temples, the exquisite lips tighten, the red glow of anger steal into the great brown eyes.

He continued evenly.

“I am determined that my wife shall not cheapen herself. I’ve entreated in vain; I’ve used argument, and it’s failed; and so I must use—power.”

“Power?” breathed the girl. “Power? ... When you make enough money to pay your washing-bills ...”

Jeremy stiffened suddenly and went very pale.

With a hammering heart, his wife stood still as death.

For a moment he spoke no word. Then—

“I’m going out,” he said shortly. “Don’t wait for lunch. I shan’t be back till seven. I shall come back then—this time. But if ever you say such a thing again or anything like it, I shall walk right out for good.”

He picked up his hat and coat and passed out of the room....