thing so haggard, so harassed, so fairly guilty about him
that if she had ever thought of telling him the truth of how she came by
the ring she put it away from her now.

But beneath his distress she recognized a desperate earnestness. There
was something he wanted at any cost, but he was going to be gentle with
her. She had felt before the potentiality of his gentleness, and she
doubted her power to resist it. She fanned up all the flame of anger
that had swept her into the room. She reminded herself that the greatest
gentleness might only be a blind; that there was nothing stronger than
wanting something very much, and that the protection of the jewel was
very thin. But when he stood beside her she realized he held a stronger
weapon against her than his gentleness, something apart from his
intention. She felt that in whatever circumstance, at whatever time she
should meet him he would make her feel thus--hot and cold, and happy for
the mere presence of his body beside her. In a confusion she heard what
he was saying.

He was speaking, almost coaxingly, as if to a child. "I understand," he
was saying. "I know all about it. It's a mistake. But surely you don't
expect to keep it now. It will only be an annoyance to you."

She turned on him. "What could it be to you?"

Kerr, planted before her, with his head dropped, looked, looked, looked,
as if he gave silence leave to answer for him what it would. It answered
with a hundred echoes ringing up to her from long corridors of
conjecture, half-articulated words breathing of how extraordinary the
answer must be that he did not dare to make. He looked her up and down
carefully, impersonally, with that air he had of regarding a rare
specimen, thoughtfully; as if he weighed such ephemeral substance as
chance.

"What will you take for it?" he said at last.

She was silent. With a sick distrust it came to her that it was the
very worst thing he could have said after that speaking silence.

She stepped away from him. "This thing is not for sale."

He stared at her with amazement; then threw back his head and laughed as
if something had amused him above all tragedy.

"You are an extraordinary creature," he said, "but really I must have
it. I can't explain the why of it; only give the sapphire to me, and
you'll never be sorry for having done that for me. Whatever happens, you
may be sure I won't talk. Even if the thing comes out, you shan't be
mixed up in it." He had come n