“The circumstances of which I speak are of an importance to us, perhaps exaggerated, possibly out of proportion to the fundamental conditions of the situation.  But they are conditions which our family has never ignored.  And it is too late for us to learn to ignore them now.

“I think that you will feel—­I think that a large part of the world might consider our attitude toward such a woman as you have shown yourself to be, narrow, prejudiced, provincial.  The modern world would scarcely arm us with any warrant for interfering in a matter which a man nearly thirty is supposed to be able to manage for himself.  But my father and mother are old, and they will never change in their beliefs and prejudices inherited from their parents, who, in turn, inherited their beliefs.

“It was for them more than for myself—­more even than for my brother—­that I appealed to you.  The latter end of their lives should not be made unhappy.  And your generous decision assures me that it will not be made so.

“As for myself, my marriage permitted me an early enfranchisement from the obsolete conventional limits within which my brother and I were brought up.

“I understand enough of the modern world not to clash with, it unnecessarily, enough of ultra-modernity not to be too much afraid of it.

“But even I, while I might theoretically admit and even admire that cheerful and fearless courage which makes it possible for such a self-respecting woman as yourself to face the world and force it to recognise her right to earn her own living as she chooses—­I could not bring myself to contemplate with equanimity my brother’s marrying you.  And I do not believe my father would survive such an event.

“To us, to me, also, certain fixed conventional limits are the basis of all happiness.  To offend them is to be unhappy; to ignore them would mean destruction to our peace of mind and self-respect.  And, though I do admire you and respect you for what you are, it is only just to you to say that we could never reconcile ourselves to those modern social conditions which you so charmingly represent, and which are embodied in you with such convincing dignity.

“Dear Miss West, have I pained you?  Have I offended you in return for all your courtesy to me?  I hope not.  I felt that I owed you this.  Please accept it as a tribute and as a sorrowful acquiescence in conditions which an old-fashioned family are unable to change.

“Very sincerely yours,

“LILLY COLLIS.”

She lay for a while, thinking, the sheets of the letter lying loose on the bed.  It seemed to require no answer.  Nor had Mrs. Collis, apparently, any fear that Valerie would ever inform Louis Neville of what had occurred between his sister and herself.

Still, to Valerie, an unanswered letter was like a civil observation ignored.

She wrote that evening to Lily: 

“Dear Mrs. Collis:  In acknowledging your letter of yesterday I beg to assure you that I understand the inadvisability of my marrying your brother, and that I have no idea of doing it, and that, through me, he shall never know of your letters or of your visit to me in his behalf.