"Think!" he answered in a mock appeal. "They will be my only consolation after you are married."
"Give them to me!" she cried again.
Hawke was standing by the fireplace and she moved towards him, changing her tone to one of wondering reproach.
"You can't mean to keep them! You are just laughing at me--for the minute. Yes! yes! I know. That was your way. But you will give me the letters in the end, won't you? Look! I will kneel to you for them. Only give them to me!" And she sank on her knees at his feet before the fire.
"They will be much safer with me," he replied. "You might leave them about. David might pry. And it would strain even his innocence to misunderstand them."
"Can you think I should keep them?" she said with a shiver of disgust. "Give them to me or burn them yourself! Yes!" she continued, feverishly, clutching his arm, "burn them yourself--now--here--and I will thank you all my life."
She stirred the coals into a blaze.
"See! They will burn so quickly," and she darted out her hands towards the file.
Hawke snatched it away. "No, no!" he laughed. "You must vary your game if you mean to win."
He reached up and hung it on the mirror over his mantelpiece.