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Rh "I flung all my chemises at his head!" she screamed, hysterically. "And he flung them all back. The room was one vast chemise! . . . Oh, it's terrible . . . It's a dog's life. I won't go back to him . . . Papa, I needn't go back to him, need I?"

"Emilie, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

She threw herself upon her father, crushed herself against the orders on his breast:

"Oh, Papa, I am so unhappy! I can't stand any more of it: I am so unhappy!"

Marianne came in. She was looking very pretty: a delicate, fair little society-girl, in her low-necked white frock. She heard Emilie's last words, saw her pale, thin, dishevelled:

"Emilietje! . . . Sissy! . . . What is it?" she exclaimed. "Oh, that horrid man! It's that horrid man!"

Bertha shut her eyes:

"Emilie," she said, wearily.

"Mamma, don't be angry . . . but I'm staying!"

The bell rang.

"There's the bell, Emilie!" said Van Naghel, sternly.

"I'm going, Papa . . ."

She looked around her in perplexity, not knowing which door to go out by.

"Come with me," said Louise, quickly.