Marise laughed. "What sort of a beast?"
"Any sort with a sore head."
"Well—to change the subject," she said rather hastily, "let's talk not about beasts, but about jewels. I've apologised. And now officially I put these valuable things into your hands."
"I'd rather leave them in yours," said Garth.
"But—I told you before I really couldn't keep them—in the circumstances."
"Haven't the circumstances changed—just a little?"
"I—don't quite see how you mean."
"Don't you? In that case, I suppose they haven't. Won't you change, then—enough to keep the things, as I've no use for them?"
"I'm afraid I can't. You may have a use for them some day, you know."
"What use? I don't seem to see Mothereen in pearls and laurel wreaths."