"That is one way," said Lissac, calmly. "It is a woman's way, that!"
"You have my letters still?"
"Preciously preserved."
He had not contemplated such a threat, but she quickly scented a danger therein.
"Suppose I should ask the return of those letters, perhaps you would restore them to me?"
"Probably," he said.
"Suppose I asked you to bring them to me, you know, in that little out of the way room of which I spoke to you one day?"
She had leaned gently toward Lissac and her elbows grazed the knees of her former lover.
"I would wear, that day, one of those otter-trimmed toques that you have not forgotten."
She saw that he trembled, as if he were moved by some unsatisfied desire for her. She felt reassured.