He rose when his son entered the room, and they shook hands. There was a certain air of concentration about both, as if they each intended to say more than they had ever said before. The coffee was duly brought. This was a revival of an old custom. In bygone days Jack had frequently come in thus, and they had taken coffee before going together in Sir John's carriage to one of the great social functions at which their presence was almost a necessity. Jack had always poured out the coffee--to-night he did not offer to do so. “I came,” he said suddenly, “to give you a piece of news which I am afraid will not be very welcome.” Sir John bowed his head gravely. “You need not temper it,” he said, “to me.” “Millicent and I have decided to make our engagement known,” retorted Jack at once. Sir John bowed again. To any one but his son his suave acquiescence would have been maddening. “I should have liked,” continued Jack, “to have done it with your consent.” Sir John winced. He sat upright in his chair and threw back his shoulders. If Jack intended to continue in this way, there would be difficulties to face. Father and son were equally determined. Jack had proved too cunning a pupil. The old aristocrat's own lessons were being turned against him, and the younger man has, as it were, the light of the future shining upon his game in such a case as this, while the elder plays in the gathering gloom. “You know,” said Sir John gravely, “that I am not much given to altering my opinions. I do not say that they are of any value; but, such as they are, I usually hold to them. When you did me the honour of mentioning this matter to me last year, I gave you my opinion.” “And it has in no way altered?” “In no way. I have found no reason to alter it.” “Can you modify it?” asked Jack gently. “No.” “Not in any degree?” Jack drew a deep breath. “No.” He emitted the breath slowly, making an effort so that it did not take the form of a sigh. “Will you, at all events, give me your reasons?” he asked. “I am not a child.” Sir John fumbled at his lips--he glanced sharply at his son. “I think,” he said, “that it would be advisable not to ask them.” “I should like to know why you object to my marrying Millicent,” persisted Jack. “Simply because I know a bad woman when I see her,” retorted Sir John deliberately. Jack raised his eyebrows. He glanced towards the door, as if contemplating leaving the room without further ado. But he sat quite still. It was wonderful how little it hurt him. It was more--it was significant. Sir John, who was watching, saw the glance and guessed the meaning of it. An iron self-control had been the first thing he had taught Jack--years before, when he was in his first knickerbockers. The lesson had not been forgotten. “I am sorry you have said that,” said the son. “Just,” continued the father, “as I know a good one.” He paused, and they were both thinking of the same woman--Jocelyn Gordon.