She was silent. The fact was that she did not perceive it. But undoubtedly the way he proved the point was agreeable to her. Of course it is quite possible for a man to prove a point to a woman’s satisfaction and yet to leave her unsatisfied as to whether or not his contention is correct. Pierce Winwood had proved to this young woman that she had been well within her rights in accepting him as her lover, and yet she had an uneasy feeling that she had done the other man a wrong. An old rhyme went jingling through her brain, with all the irritating force of a milk cart hurrying for a train--something about the advisability of being off with the old love before being on with the new. But that was just what she had done: she had been strictly conscientious. She had written to Ernest Clifton asking to be released from the promise which she had made to him and he had freed her--what the young man beside her said was perfectly true: she had not been a party to the _parole_--it had been forced upon her. She had not consented to it. Nothing in the world could be clearer than this. And yet the result of thinking over it all was to leave her with a feeling of uneasiness in respect of her own action and of still greater uneasiness in respect of his sense of honour. “Don’t think anything more about the business,” said he. “I will not,” she said. “I will not; after all, did not he _try_ to trick me, and why should not I, if I saw that--that---- But you--well, I have made a confession to you at any rate, and that’s something, isn’t it? You are not angry?” “Angry--I--angry----” He was taking such action in regard to her as should he thought convince her that he was not permanently embittered against her; but she gave him to understand that his word of mouth was quite adequate to allay her doubts. “Ah, no--no,” she said; and his lips had to be content with the back of her hand. “I was taken by surprise just now. I did wrong, considering the position in which I stood--in which I still stand.” “Good heavens,” he cried, “haven’t I proved--didn’t you agree with me----” “Yes, yes; there can be no doubt about it,” she assented with the utmost cordiality. “Yes; still--but I see clearly what I can do. I can tell him that without my father’s consent it would be impossible for me to--to--to be otherwise than free. I will tell him that I consider myself to be free--that I considered myself to be so from the moment he agreed to my taking back my promise.” He could not see that anything would be gained by this traffic with the other man; but he thought that she might fancy that he was giving himself the airs of a lover too early in his career. Only half an hour had elapsed since he had undertaken to play the part, and though ambitious to make a mark in the _role_, he thought it would be more prudent to perfect himself in it by slow degrees. Still he could not refrain from saying: