Clare stared in front of her. What was to be her next move? Like Garrett, she had been brought to a standstill by Dahlia's direct refusal. Viewing the matter indefinitely, from the security of her own room, it had seemed to her that the girl would be certain to give way at the very mention of the Trojan name. She would face Robin—yes, that was natural enough, because, after all, he was only a boy and had no knowledge of the world and the proper treatment of such a case—but when it came to the head of the family with all the influence of the family behind her, then instant submission seemed inevitable.
Clare was forced to realise that instant submission was very far away indeed, and that the girl sitting quietly in the window showed little sign of yielding. She sat up a little straighter in her chair and her voice was a little sharper.
"It seems then, Miss Feverel, that it is a question of terms. But why did you not say so before? I would have told you at once that we are willing to pay a very considerable sum for the return of the letters."
Dahlia's face flushed, and after a moment's pause she rose from her chair and walked towards Clare.
"Miss Trojan," she said quietly, "I have no intention of taking money for them—or, indeed, of taking anything."
"I'm sure," broke in Clare, flushing slightly, "I had no intention of——"
"Ah—no, I know," went on Dahlia. "But it is not, I assure you, a case for melodrama—but a very plain, simple little affair that is happening everywhere all the time. You say that you cannot understand why I should wish to keep the letters. Let me try and explain, and also let me try and urge on you that it is really no good at all trying to change my mind. It is now several days since I had my last talk with Robin, and I have, of course, thought a good deal about it—it is scarcely likely that half-an-hour's conversation with you will change a determination that I have arrived at after ten days' hard thinking. And surely it is not hard to understand. Six months ago I was happy and inexperienced. I had never been in love, and, indeed, I had no idea of its meaning. Then your nephew came: he made love to me, and I loved him in return."
She paused for a moment. Clare looked sympathetic. Then Dahlia continued: "He meant no harm, no doubt, and perhaps for the time he was quite serious in what he said. He was, as you say, very young. But it was a game to him—it was everything to me. I treasured his letters, I thought of them day and night. I—but, of course, you know the kind of thing that a girl goes through when she is in love for the first time. Then I came here and went through some bad weeks whilst he was making up his mind to tell me that he loved me no longer. Of course, I saw well enough what was happening—and I knew why it was—it was the family at his back."
A murmur from Clare. "I assure you, Miss Feverel."
"Oh yes, Miss Trojan, you don't suppose that I cared for you very much during those weeks. I suffered a little, too, and it changed me from a girl into a woman—rather too quickly to be altogether healthy, perhaps. And then he came and told me in so many words. I thought at first that it had broken my heart; a girl does, you know, when it happens the first time, but you needn't be afraid—my heart's all right—and I wouldn't marry Robin now if he begged me to. But it had hurt, all of it, and perhaps one's pride had suffered most of all—and so, of course, I kept the letters. It was the one way that I could hurt you. I'm frank, am I not?—but every woman would do the same. You see you are so very proud, you Trojans!