"True, Mrs. Grey." Mr. Robinson gave a somewhat peculiar smile. "I am glad to see that you understand me so thoroughly; your suggestion is in the highest degree practical; there is one consideration, however, which we have not taken into account. Land, unfortunately, depreciates in value, so that at times it would be highly dangerous to the interests of the mortgagee to press a sale. At other times the title of the mortgagor is not perfectly clear. All these things should be carefully looked into beforehand. In your case everything was done, but one cannot be always certain. However, excuse me for correcting your slight inaccuracy. I _think_ I never said that this sum of money was lost. I like to be perfectly certain on these points. Perhaps you can refer to the passage in my letter in which I announced this unfortunate business." He looked at her with some anxiety--nervousness perhaps an acute observer might have said, but Margaret was not an acute observer. She smiled and shook her head: "Quite impossible, Mr. Robinson. I never keep my letters, especially business ones. I _have_ been told that this habit is a bad one; but _à quoi bon?_ It is really too much trouble." The lawyer showed his teeth. "A lady's view of matters," he said briskly; "and, after all, full of common sense. Why _should_ you trouble yourself? However, to return _à nos moutongs_, as the French would say" (Mr. Robinson had spent a year in a French school, and considered himself a perfect master of the language), "I am happy to say that your affairs are likely to take a favorable turn. I have a hold on the fellow for another little matter; indeed, I may say that he is completely in my power. With your permission I will open proceedings against him." Mr. Robinson always spoke the truth--at least, as some one said in the House of Commons lately, "what he thought the truth." But, though his affairs were open to the inspection of men and angels, he did not consider mental reservation a sin, even where it would seriously affect the character of a truth which he had ingenuously stated. He guarded himself from telling Mrs. Grey that the other little business was a large sum owed to himself by Mrs. Grey's debtor, and that he was fully determined to screw this out of him before another debt should be paid. The knowledge of want or of something approaching it--want rather of the refinements of life than of its necessities--had made Margaret look with far more interest on money than she had ever done before. Formerly, it had been a certain something that always came at the right moment--for Mr. Robinson was as regular as clockwork in the transaction of his business--and that came in amounts amply sufficient to meet every need. What wonder that she thought little of how it came, and was tolerably lavish in its expenditure?