"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 now; he has written me several very agitated letters. But really I cannot help it. The affair is over--done with. I regard the letters as my personal property. I cannot see that it is any one else's business at all." "Of course it is our business," he answered seriously. "Those letters must be destroyed. I do not accuse you of any deliberate malicious intentions, but there is, as far as I can see, only one motive in your keeping them. I have not seen them, but from what I have heard I gather that they contain definite promise of marriage. Your case is a strong one." "Yes," she laughed. "Poor Robin's enthusiasm led him to some very violent expressions of affection. But, Mr. Trojan, revenge is sweet. Every woman, I think, likes it, and I am no exception to my sex. Aren't you a little unfair in claiming all the pleasure and none of the pain?"