Diane's self-control wavered under it and broke.

She turned and upbraided him despairingly, alternately pleading and reproaching, battering all her slender forces uselessly against his inflexible determination.
"This is a waste of time, Diane--mine, anyway," he told her.

And left her shaken with grief and anger.
Driven by a sense of utter revolt, she stormed her way to Catherine, who was composedly sorting sheets in the linen room.
"I will not bear it!" she burst out at her furiously.

"What have I done that I should be treated as an outcast--a pariah ?" Catherine regarded the tense, quivering little figure with chill dislike.
"You married my brother," she replied imperturbably.
"And you have separated us! But for you, we should be happy together--he and baby and I! But you have spoilt it all.

I suppose"-- a hint of the Latin Quarter element in her asserting itself--"I suppose you think no one good enough to marry into your precious family!" Catherine paused on her way to the cupboard, a pile of fine linen pillowslips in her hands.
"Yes," she said quietly.