She asserted her parental authority.

Very lazily she put her feet to the ground, laid her fan, her handkerchief and her cigarette case together, and rose to her feet.

Coming round the table she took the forbidden book out of Beatrice's hands, shut it up and put it back in its place.

Beatrice made no opposition, but raised her broad eyebrows wearily and folded her hands in her lap.
"Of course, if you insist, I have nothing to say," she remarked, "any more than I have anything to do since you will not let me read." The Marchesa went back to her lounge and carefully arranged her belongings and settled herself comfortably before she spoke.
"I think you are a little out of temper, Beatrice dear, or perhaps you are hungry, my child.

You so often are.