under heavy bonds not to break any more hearts. But a kleptomaniac
isn't responsible, you understand. And it isn't worth while to bear any
malice."

"Oh, I don't bear any malice now," she said. "I did at first, naturally.
But it all seems very ridiculous now I have had time to think it over. I
believe, Mr. Crocker, that I never really cared for him."

"Simply an idol shattered this time," I suggested, "and not a heart
broken."

"Yes, that's it," said she.

"I am glad to hear it," said I, much pleased that she had taken such a
sensible view. "But you are engaged to him."

"I was."

"You have broken the engagement, then?"

"No, I--haven't," she said.

"Then he has broken it?"

She did not appear to resent this catechism.

"That's the strange part of it," said Miss Trevor, "he hasn't even
thought it necessary."

"It is clear, then, that you are still engaged to him," said I, smiling
at her blank face.

"I suppose I am," she cried. "Isn't it awful? What shall I do, Mr.
Crocker? You are so sensible, and have had so much experience."

"I beg your pardon," I remarked grimly.

"Oh, you know what I mean: not that kind of experience, of course. But
breach of promise cases and that sort of thing. I have a photograph of
him with something written over it."

"Something compromising?" I inquired.

"Yes, you would probably call it so," she answered, reddening. "But
there is no need of my repeating it. And then I have a lot of other
things. If I write to break off the engagement I shall lose dignity, and
it will appear as though I had regrets. I don't wish him to think that,
of all things. What shall I do?"

"Do nothing," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"Just that. Do not break the engagement, and keep the photograph and
other articles for evidence. If he makes any overtures, don't consider
them for an instant. And I think, Miss Trevor, you will succeed sooner
or later in making him very uncomfortable. Were he any one else I
shouldn't advise such a course, but you won't lose any dignity and
self-respect by it, as no one will be likely to hear of it. He can't
be taken seriously, and plainly he has never taken any one else so. He
hasn't even gone to the trouble to notify you that he does not intend
marrying you."

I saw from her expression that my suggestion was favorably entertained.

"What a joke it would be!" she cried delightedly.

"And a decided act of charity," I added, "to the next young woman on his