But Netta shook her head despairingly. She
could not and would not have her father harassed. Mr. Melrose would do
anything--bribe anybody--to get his way. They would have the police
coming, and dragging her father to prison. It was not to be thought of.
Victoria tried gently to investigate what skeleton might be lying in the
Smeath closet, whereof Mr. Melrose possessed such very useful
information. But Netta held her tongue. "Papa had been very unfortunate,
and the Government would like to put him in prison if they could. Edmund
had been always so cruel to him." Beyond this Victoria could not get.
But the determination of the frail, faded woman was unshakable, although
she glanced nervously at her daughter from time to time, as if much more
in dread of her opinion than of Victoria's.
Felicia, who had listened in silence to the conversation between her
mother and Victoria, turned round from the window in which she was
staring, as soon as Lady Tatham seemed to be finally worsted.
"Mother, you promised to stay here till Christmas!"
The voice was imperious. Felicia's manner to her mother indeed was often
of an unfilial sharpness, and Victoria was already meditating some gentle
discipline on the point.
"Oh, no, Felicia!" said Netta, helplessly, "not till Christmas." Then,
remembering herself, she turned toward her hostess: "It's so kind of you,
I'm sure."
"Yes, till Christmas!" repeated Felicia. "You know grandpapa's no worse.
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