Carleigh gasped. "Killed himself?"
"Not quite," Nina answered coolly. "He was prevented, too. But he carries the scar. Every time he shaves he must think of me."
"My dear girl," he remonstrated. He was still thinking of the ring. It was of such value that he began to question whether she was quite in her right mind. "You do let one in for thrilling experiences. That I must say."
"Now as then," she admitted, stopping short. "I've been very horrid," turning her head until her eyes looked directly into his. "I'm not just myself to-day. I don't know why I threw your pearl away. Come back with me and I'll pick it up."
"Can you find it, do you think?" he asked, palpably pleased.
"Of course. I threw it on the bare roots. I meant to pick it up on our way back."
He was smiling now, as transparent as any schoolboy. "You are most awfully odd, you know," he said, vastly solaced. "But if we pick it up, you must let me put it on."
"No, no."
"Yes, yes."
"Well, if you insist. But it will mean nothing."