"
"I can forbid him the house."
"That's no good either so long as he doesn't forbid me his."
"You can't go to him there, my girl."
"I can do anything when I'm driven."
The Vicar groaned.
"You're right," he said. "You _are_ different from Alice. You're worse
than she is--ten times worse. _You_'d stick at nothing. I've always
known it."
"So have I."
The Vicar leaned against the chimney-piece and hid his face in his
hands to shut out the shame of her.
And then Gwenda had pity on him.
"It's all right, Papa. I'm not going to Dr. Rowcliffe, because there's
no need. You're not going to lock him up in his surgery and you're not
going to forbid him the house. You're not going to do anything. You're
going to listen to me. It's not a bit of good trying to bully me.
You'll be beaten every time. You can bully Alice as much as you like.
You can bully her till she's ill. You can shut her up in her bedroom
and lock the door and I daresay she won't get out at the window. But
even Alice will beat you in the end. Of course there's Mary. But I
shouldn't try it on with Mary either. She's really more dangerous than
I am, because she looks so meek and mild. But she'll beat you, too, if
you begin bullying her."
The Vicar raised his stricken head.
"Gwenda," he said, "you're terrible."
"No, Papa, I'm not terrible. I'm really awfully kind. I'm telling you
these things for your good. Don't you worry.
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