I took tea with Miss Martinet, who, because of my uncle's charitable interest in Greystones, treated me more as a guest than as an employee. Presently, however, she began upon one subject which had already crossed my own mind.

"You will find," said she, "that in such a place as this there are certain romantic passions which develop between some of the girls. A few of these are genuine affections, others are basely criminal. I cannot advise you whether to permit or punish such infatuations. It must be at your discretion. Whatever your decision, you may depend upon my support."

"I shall be grateful for that, ma'am," I said, swallowing my tea hard. The cup rattled nervously in the saucer, as I sat on the edge of the little chair in her drawing-room.

"Some girls," she continued, rather self-consciously, "are also liable to develop crushes or passions upon any man in the establishment. You, I am sure, will best know how to deal with that. They are also given to inventing stories about his activities. Have no fear, though, your word in such matters will always prevail with me."

"I shall strive to be worthy of such trust," I gasped weakly.

"As for the other matter," she murmured, "whatever course of action you feel to be necessary in matters of chastisement must be a decision for you alone."

As she spoke, Miss Martinet looked at me across the tea table with a new depth of meaning in her clear grey eyes. "I shall not interfere with your wishes in the matter," she went on, "except to assure you that the use of the rod is, paradoxically, the kindest form of correction in the end. A single severe punishment may save a wayward young woman from evil ways and repeated penalties later on."