"Tell me what it is," he answered, more determined than ever not to yield to her unreasonable demand. He was not obstinate, but Lionel Beauchamp had a will of his own, and could make up his mind quickly and decidedly, a virtue sadly wanting in many of us. His reservation had been put in mechanically in the first instance, but Blanche's persistence made him now resolute not to commit himself to an unlimited promise. Except unthinkingly, people do not make promises of this nature, any more than they give blank cheques, the filling-in of which in unwarrantable fashion might occasion much grief and tribulation to the reckless donor. Miss Bloxam felt a little indignant at not being able to carry her point, but she knew just as well as Lionel did that she was insisting on the exorbitant. "Still," she argued, "if he were really in love with me he would not mind promising to grant me whatever I asked. "I want to know," she said at length, "what was the present Miss Chipchase made you?" "Good Heavens!" replied Lionel, laughing, "is that all you require? She sent me these solitaires for saving her bracelet at Rockcliffe; are they not pretty ones?" And, pulling back his coat-sleeve, Beauchamp exhibited the studs at his wrists. "Very," returned Blanche. "But that is not quite all: what is the commission she has given you?" Beauchamp looked a little grave at this question. This commission was in reality the mildest of mysteries; but he saw that Blanche believed it to be of far greater importance. "I cannot tell you," he replied. "May I ask why?" "Certainly. I cannot tell you because I have promised not to mention it. You, of course, would not wish me to break my word?"