Sir Guy Rutherford sat glaring at the school girl sitting at the other side of the table with a good deal of impatience. She glared back and there was furious indignation in the dark eyes that fronted him.
“I wish you’d hear reason!” he said suddenly. “You’re—how old? Fifteen, isn’t it? Very well, then. You’re still at an age when what you need is school and a jolly good school at that!”