"Gerty is sensible enough to think as I do; besides, she is very happy, and so has no right to dictate to other people about their affairs; indeed, she won't trouble about it—why should she? I'm not part of her."
"You're unjust to Gertrude: your sister is too sweet and modest to wish to dictate to any one."
"Exactly." Janet could not help saying this one word, and yet she knew that it would irritate her father still more.
"And who would take you as a governess? You don't find it easy to live even with your own people, and I don't know what you can teach. Perhaps you will reproach me as Laura did her mother, and say it was my fault you didn't go to Girton?"
"Oh, I think I can manage. My music is not much, I know; but I think it's good enough to be useful."
"Are you going to say that I was wrong in not encouraging you to train for a professional musician?"
"I hadn't the faintest notion of reproaching you for anything: it was only modesty."
She knew that having passed the period when she might have cried, she was being fatigued into the flippant stage, and her father hated that above everything.
"Now you're beginning to sneer in your superior way," Dr. Worgan said, walking up the room, "talking to me as if I were an idiot———"
He was interrupted by the maid who came in to ask Janet whether she could put out the light in the hall. Janet looked questioningly at her father, who had faced round when he heard the door open, and he said yes.
"And, Callant," Janet cried after her, and then went on in a lower tone as she reappeared, "we shall want breakfast at eight to-morrow; Dr. Worgan is going out early."
