nd
between annoyance and disappointment and confusion she felt that she was
blushing, which she would not have had Zorzi see for anything. She
wondered why he did not go on.

"Have I offended you?" he asked, in a low voice.

Oddly enough, her embarrassment disappeared as soon as he spoke, and the
blush faded away.

"No," she answered, coldly enough. "I am not angry--I am only sorry."

"But I am glad that I would not answer your question," returned Zorzi.

"I doubt whether you had any answer to give," retorted Marietta with a
touch of scorn.

Zorzi's brows contracted sharply and he made a movement to go on. So her
proffered friendship was worth no more than that, he thought. She was
angry and scornful because her curiosity was disappointed. She could not
have guessed his secret, he was sure, though that might account for her
temper, for she would of course be angry if she knew that he loved her.
And she was angry now because he had refused to tell her so. That was a
woman's logic, he thought, quite regardless of the defect in his own. It
was just like a woman! He sincerely wished that he might tell her so.

In the presence of Marietta the man who had confronted sudden death less
than twenty-four hours ago, with a coolness that had seemed imposing to
other men, was little better than a girl himself. He turned to go on,
without saying more. But she stopped him.

"I am sorry that you do not care for my friendship," she said, in a hurt
tone. She could not have said anything which he would have found it
harder to answer just then.

"What makes you think that?" he asked, hoping to gain time.

"Many things. It is quite true, so it does not matter what makes me
think it!"

She tried to laugh scornfully, but there was a quaver in her voice which
she herself had not expected and was very far from understanding. Why
should she suddenly feel that she was going to cry? It had seemed so
ridiculous in poor Nella that morning. Yet there was a most unmistakable
something in her throat, which frightened her. It would be dreadful if
she should burst into tears over her beads before Zorzi's eyes. She
tried to gulp the something: down, and suddenly, as she bent over the
basket, she saw the beautiful, hateful drops falling fast upon the
little dry glass things; and even then, in her shame at being seen, she
wondered why the beads looked, bigger through the glistening tears--she
remembered afterwards how they looked, so she must h