kind would affect _you_. You are concealing something from me.
Is it--is there anything the matter with my father?"

Richford started violently. With all his self-control he could not hold
himself in now. His white face took on a curious leaden hue, his voice
was hoarse as he spoke.

"Of course I have no good points in your eyes," he said with a thick
sneer. "And once a woman gets an idea into her head there is no rooting
it out again. Your father is all right; nothing ever happens to men of
that class. I saw him to his room last night, and very well he had done
for himself. Won over two hundred at bridge, too. Sir Charles can take
care of himself."

Beatrice's face flamed and then turned pale again. She had caught
herself hoping that something had happened to her father, something
sufficiently serious to postpone to-day's ceremony. It was a dreadfully
unworthy thought and Beatrice was covered with shame. And yet she knew
that she would have been far happier in the knowledge of a disaster like
that.

"Why did you want to see me?" she asked. "I have not too much time to
spare."

"Of course not. But you can cheer yourself with the reflection that we
shall have so much time together later on when the happy knot is tied.
Has it occurred to you that I have given you nothing as yet? I brought
this for you."

Richford's hands, still trembling, produced a bulky package from his
pocket. As he lifted the shabby lid a stream of living fire flashed out.
There were diamonds of all kinds in old settings, the finest diamonds
that Beatrice had ever seen. Ill at ease and sick at heart as she was,
she could not repress a cry.

"Ah, I thought I could touch you," Richford grinned. "A female saint
could not resist diamonds. Forty thousand pounds I gave for them. They
are the famous Rockmartin gems. The family had to part with them, so the
opportunity was too good to be lost. Well?"

"They are certainly exquisitely lovely," Beatrice stammered. "I thank
you very much."

"If not very warmly, eh? So that is all you have to say? Ain't they
worth one single kiss?"

Beatrice drew back. For the life of her she could not kiss this man.
Never had his lips touched hers yet. They should never do so if Beatrice
had her own way.

"I think not," she said in her cold constrained way. "It is very
princely of you, and yet it does not touch me in the least. You made the
bargain with your eyes open; I told you at the time that I could never
ca