He had assumed that her leaving home was the point at issue, that everything turned on that, and that the sole alternative was obedience, and she had fallen in with that assumption until rebellion seemed a sacred principle. "And there you're right, you may dipind, marm," observed Terence. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. The occasion is worth a dash of the grape, lad. He asked her whether she understood what she was saying, and went on to say still more precisely that she should never touch a penny of his money until she came home again—not one penny. "But, however, it may turn out, I disown you.
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