Lady Malloring’s eyebrows rose a little, as if there seemed to her something rather unjust in those words—­’for others.’

“Yes?” she said.

Sheila, whose hands were clenched, and whose face had been fiery red, grew suddenly almost white.

“Lady Malloring, will you please let the Gaunts stay in their cottage and Tryst’s wife’s sister come to live with the children and him?”

Lady Malloring raised one hand; the motion, quite involuntary, ended at the tiny cross on her breast.  She said quietly: 

“I’m afraid you don’t understand.”

“Yes,” said Sheila, still very pale, “we understand quite well.  We understand that you are acting in what you believe to be the interests of morality.  All the same, won’t you?  Do!”

“I’m very sorry, but I can’t.”

“May we ask why?”

Lady Malloring started, and transferred her glance to Derek.

“I don’t know,” she said with a smile, “that I am obliged to account for my actions to you two young people.  Besides, you must know why, quite well.”

Sheila put out her hand.

“Wilmet Gaunt will go to the bad if you turn them out.”

“I am afraid I think she has gone to the bad already, and I do not mean her to take others there with her.  I am sorry for poor Tryst, and I wish he could find some nice woman to marry; but what he proposes is impossible.”

The blood had flared up again in Sheila’s cheeks; she was as red as the comb of a turkey-cock.

“Why shouldn’t he marry his wife’s sister?  It’s legal, now, and you’ve no right to stop it.”

Lady Malloring bit her lips; she looked straight and hard at Sheila.

“I do not stop it; I have no means of stopping it.  Only, he cannot do it and live in one of our cottages.  I don’t think we need discuss this further.”

“I beg your pardon—­”

The words had come from Derek.  Lady Malloring paused in her walk toward the bell.  With his peculiar thin-lipped smile the boy went on: 

“We imagined you would say no; we really came because we thought it fair to warn you that there may be trouble.”

Lady Malloring smiled.

“This is a private matter between us and our tenants, and we should be so glad if you could manage not to interfere.”

Derek bowed, and put his hand within his sister’s arm.  But Sheila did not move; she was trembling with anger.

“Who are you,” she suddenly burst out, “to dispose of the poor, body and soul?  Who are you, to dictate their private lives?  If they pay their rent, that should be enough for you.”

Lady Malloring moved swiftly again toward the bell.  She paused with her hand on it, and said: 

“I am sorry for you two; you have been miserably brought up!”

There was a silence; then Derek said quietly: 

“Thank you; we shall remember that insult to our people.  Don’t ring, please; we’re going.”