"You see how much he wants it for himself," said I. "He knows I would sooner send a gutter-boy than Max. And you know it?"
"Do I?" she murmured.
I rose and stood before her.
"It is yours to give, not mine," said I. "Do you give it to Wetter?"
As she looked up at me her eyes filled with tears, while her lips curved in a timid smile.
"What—what trouble you'll get into!" she said.
"It's not a thousandth part of what I would do for you. Wetter shall have it then—or Max?"
"Not Max," she said; her eyes told me why it should not be Max.
"Then Wetter," and I fell on one knee by her, whispering, "The King gives it to his Queen."
"They'll blame you so; they'll say all sorts of things."