Then again she hesitated, standing as one in doubt.  “Trevor, I—­I—­”

“Open it, dear,” he said gently.

And mutely she obeyed.

Diamonds flashed before her dazzled eyes, a myriad sparkling colours shot spinning through her brain.  She stood gazing, gazing, as one beneath a spell.  For the passage of many seconds there was no sound in the room.

Then with a sudden movement she closed the case.  It shut with a sharp snap, and she raised a haggard face.

“Trevor, it’s lovely—­lovely!  But I can’t take it—­anyhow, not yet—­not till I have paid you back.”

“My dear little wife, what nonsense!” he said.

“No, no, it isn’t!  I am in earnest.”  Her voice quivered; she held out the case to him beseechingly.  “I can’t take it—­yet,” she said.  “I thank you with all my heart.  But I can’t—­I can’t!”

Her words ended upon a sudden sob; she laid the case down again among its wrappings, and stood before him silent, with bent head.  It was not easy to refuse this gift of his, but for some reason to accept it was a monstrous impossibility.  He would not understand, of course, but yet—­whatever he thought—­she could not take it.

A long pause followed her last words.  She shed no tears, but another sob was struggling for utterance.  She put her hand to her throat to strangle it there.

And then at last Mordaunt spoke.  “Chris, have you been doing something that you are afraid to tell me of?”

She was silent.  Silence was her only refuge now.

He put his arm round her.  “Because,” he said very tenderly, “you needn’t be afraid, dear, Heaven knows.”

That pierced her unbearably.  Woman though she was, she almost cried out under the pain of it.

She drew herself away from him.  “Don’t! please don’t!” she said rather breathlessly.  “You—­you must take things for granted sometimes.  I can’t always be explaining my feelings.  They won’t stand it.”

She tried to laugh, but could not.  Again desperately she pressed her hand to her throat.  How would he take it?  She wondered.  Would he regard it as a mere childish whim?  Or would he see that he was dealing with a woman, and a desperate woman at that?

She scarcely knew what she expected of him, but most assuredly she did not anticipate his next move.

Quite quietly he picked up the jewel-case, and re-entered her room.

“It may as well go among your other treasures,” he said.  “You needn’t wear it—­unless you wish—­until you have paid me back.”

His tone was perfectly ordinary.  She wondered what was in his mind, how he regarded her behaviour, why he treated her thus; not guessing that he had set himself resolutely, with infinite patience, to show her how small was her cause for fear.

He laid his hand upon the drawer that contained her trinkets, tried it, turned round to her, faintly smiling.

“May I have the key?”