"I don't know. I sent them to Kohara. I did not know in what camp he was staying. I thought it likely he would go home at once."
"Yes," said Dick.
They turned and walked back towards the house. Dick did not speak. Violet was afraid. She walked by his side, stealing every now and then a look at his set face. It was dark; she could see little but the profile. But she imagined it very stern, and she was afraid. She regretted now that she had spoken. She felt now that she could not lose him.
"Dick," she whispered timidly, laying a hand upon his arm; but he made no answer. The lighted windows of the house blazed upon the night. Would he reach the door, pass in and be gone the next morning without another word to her except a formal goodnight in front of the others?
"Oh, Dick," she said again, entreatingly; and at that reiteration of his name he stopped.
"I am very sorry," he said gently. "But I know quite well—others have taken presents from these princes. It is a pity…. One rather hates it. But you sent yours back," and he turned to her with a smile. "The others have not always done as much. Yes, you sent yours back."
Violet Oliver drew a breath of relief. She raised her face towards his.
She spoke with pleading lips.
"I am forgiven then?"
"Hush!"
And in a moment she was in his arms. Passion swept her away. It seemed to her that new worlds were opening before her eyes. There were heights to walk upon for her—even for her who had never dreamed that she would even see them near. Their lips touched.