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"
Yes
,
the
flowers
are
nice
,
"
commented
Berenice
.
"
Wait
;
I
'll
get
some
for
you
.
It
's
against
the
rules
,
but
they
ca
n't
do
more
than
send
me
away
,
and
that
's
what
I
want
.
"
"
Berenice
!
Come
back
here
!
"
It
was
Mrs.
Carter
calling
.
The
daughter
was
gone
in
a
fling
of
graceful
lines
and
flounces
.
"
Now
what
do
you
make
of
her
?
"
asked
Mrs.
Carter
,
turning
to
her
friend
.
"
Youth
,
individuality
,
energy
--
a
hundred
things
I
see
nothing
wrong
with
her
.
"
"
If
I
could
only
see
to
it
that
she
had
her
opportunities
unspoiled
.
"
Already
Berenice
was
returning
,
a
subject
for
an
artist
in
almost
studied
lines
.
Her
arms
were
full
of
sweet-peas
and
roses
which
she
had
ruthlessly
gathered
.
"
You
wilful
girl
!
"
scolded
her
mother
,
indulgently
.
"
I
shall
have
to
go
and
explain
to
your
superiors
.
Whatever
shall
I
do
with
her
,
Mr.
Cowperwood
?
"
