'The Melancthon Settlement?' Downing concentrated his mind on the problems now confronting his companion. He rose suddenly to look for a book of reference which he knew contained details of the working of similar philanthropic schemes, and which he had procured when in London. But Mrs. Robinson also sprang to her feet, and with a nervous gesture put her hand on the back of her chair. She watched his coming and going, and when he brought back the book, and handed her a pencil and some sheets of paper, she again sat down. But a grim look had come over Downing's face. He came and stood by her, for the first time that day he touched her, and she felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder as he said quietly: 'Are you afraid of me, Penelope?' She looked up quickly, furtively. How strange to hear him thus pronounce her name! Like that Prince and Princess in the French fairy tale, who only called each other _mon coeur_ and _ma mie_, such familiarities as 'George' and 'Penelope' had not yet been theirs. 'Oh no!' she cried, and inconsequently added: 'I only thought that you might consider my coming here to-day odd, uncalled for----' But actions speak louder than words. Downing felt cut to the heart. He knew that he had deserved better things of her than that she should leap to her feet in fear if he did but move. But as he turned away, perplexed and angered, Mrs. Robinson was bent on showing her repentance. She came near to him, and even took his hand. 'I have been so unhappy,' she said simply, 'since you went away. Believe me, I am only content when we are together.' Downing still looked at her with troubled eyes. Drawing his hand out of hers, he set himself to discuss the various business arrangements connected with her renouncement of the great fortune she was giving up for the sake of his good name and repute; and, listening to all he had to say, Penelope was impressed by his conscientiousness, by his feeling that she would of course feel bound to see that no portion of the large sum in question should slip into unworthy hands. 'I am sure,' he said at last, 'that your friend Mr. Winfrith will advise better than I, in my ignorance of the actual working of the Melancthon Settlement, can hope to do.' He unfortunately added: 'Since I have seen him, I have wondered whether he will stand our friend?' Mrs. Robinson looked up quickly. 'No,' she answered very deliberately, and Downing thought her oddly indifferent. 'I do not think David Winfrith will have the slightest sympathy with me--with us. He is exceedingly conventional.' All at once a discussion, provoked by her, seemed to make the future intimately near, especially to the man who suddenly found himself answering questions, some childish and very frank in their expression, about the life led by Europeans in Persia. Penelope, for the moment, seemed to be looking forward to their joint existence as to a series of exciting and romantic adventures.