drew a breath of relief at her
absence. There was a moment's pause. "I hope you will forgive me,
Miss Feverel," he said gently. "I'm afraid that both your mother and
yourself must regard this as impertinent, but, at the same time, I
think you will understand."

She seemed to have regained her composure. "It is about Robin, I
suppose?"

"Yes. Could you tell me exactly what the relations between you were?"

"We were engaged," she answered simply, "last summer at Cambridge. He
broke off the engagement."

"Yes--but I understand that you intend to keep his letters?"

"That is quite true."

"I have come to ask you to restore them."

"I am sorry. I am afraid that it is a waste of time. I shall not go
back on my word."

He could not understand what her game was--he was not sure that she had
a game at all; she seemed very helpless, and, at the same time, he felt
that there was strength behind her answers. He was at a loss; his
experience was of no value to him at all.

"I am going to beg you to alter your decision. I am pleading with you
in a matter that is of the utmost importance to me. Robin is my only
son. He has behaved abominably, and you can understand that it has
been rather a blow to me to return after twenty years' absence and find
him engaged in such an affair. But he is very young, and--pardon
me--so are you. I am an older man and my experience of the world is
greater than yours; believe me when I say that you will regret
persistence in your refusal most bitterly in later years. It seems to
me a crisis--a crisis, perhaps, for all of us. Take an older man's
word for it; there is only one possible course for you to adopt."

"Really, Mr. Trojan," she said, laughing, "you are intensely serious.
Last week I thought that my heart was broken; but now--well, it takes a
lot to break a heart. I am sure that you will be glad to hear that my
appetite has returned. As to the letters--why, think how pleasant it
will be for me to sentimentalise over them in my old age! Surely, that
is sufficient motive."

She was trying to speak lightly, but her lip quivered.

"You are running a serious risk, Miss Feverel," he answered gravely.
"Your intention is, I imagine, to punish Robin. I can assure you that
in a few years' time he will be punished enough. He scarcely realises
as yet what he has done. That knowledge will come to him later."

"Poor Robin!" she said. "Yes, he ought to feel rather a worm no