looked as if he wished to reassure her. "How did you know
where it came from?" he said.

The colour she had been so studiously restraining rushed in a wave over
her face. "Of course--of course I knew! Besides, there was a line with
it."

"May I see the line?" said Noel.

She stared at him, her agitation increasing. What right had he to be so
cool and unabashed?

"I tore it up," she said.

"What for?" said Noel.

Her eyes gleamed momentarily. "I was angry."

"Angry with me?" he questioned.

"Yes."

"Does it make you angry to know that a man cares for you?" he said.

Her eyes fell before the sudden fire that kindled in his with the words.
"Don't!" she said rather breathlessly. "Please don't!"

"You ought to be sorry for me," he whispered, "not angry."

She turned her face aside. "Of course--that--would not make me angry.
Only--only--you had no right to--to send me--a present--a valuable
present."

"And if I didn't?" said Noel.

She looked at him in sheer astonishment. He still held her hand with the
packet clasped in it.

"What if I am not the delinquent after all?" he said.

"What do you mean?" Her eyes met his again, wide and incredulous.

"What if I tell you that this packet--whatever it contains--did not come
from me?"

He asked the question with a faint smile that set some chord of memory
vibrating strangely in her soul. But she could not stop to wrestle with
memory then. His words demanded her instant attention.

"Not come from you!" she repeated, as one dazed. "But it did! Surely it
did!"

"Most surely it didn't!" said Noel.

She freed her hand and opened it, gazing at the subject of their
discussion almost with fear. "Mr. Wyndham!"

"Call me Noel!" he said. "There's nothing in that. Everybody does it.
And don't be upset on my account! It was a perfectly natural mistake.
I'm deeply in love with you. But--all the same--this present did not
come from me."

"It had your initials," she said, still only half believing.

"Then it was probably a hoax," said Noel.

"Oh, no! That's not possible. It--it--you see, it's valuable." Olga's
voice was almost piteous.

"I say, don't mind!" he said. "It's just some other fellow's impudence.
I'll kick him for you if I get the chance. You're quite sure about my
initials?"

"Quite," she said.

"And what else was there?"

She frowned, "Only a Latin motto."

"Tell me!" he said persuasively.

She continued to frown. "It was '_Dum spiro spero_.'