They got into the car, and he asked permission to accompany them, suggesting a drive round the open mine. Loree did not mention that she had already been there. She longed to see it again. Mrs Cork sulkily declared that, though she did not mind prolonging the drive, she wanted no more to do with mines. When they reached the big hole, she closed her eyes, tucked herself under her mauve sunshade and said they could inspect it if they liked, but that her interest in the diamond industry was damped for ever.
“I believe she is really upset,” said Loree to Quelch, as they walked away.
“She need not be. The rule of watching is never relaxed. Every one is suspect while in contact with diamonds, and no one trusted. Even the watchers are watched.”
“How curious—and how terrible!”
“In spite of it, many thousands of pounds’ worth are stolen every year.”
They looked down into the mine. The pit’s colourings ranged from surface red and yellowish clay to the famous “blue ground” in which the gems are found. Far below, amid the jutting blocks of rusty rocks that are the barren “reef,” tiny figures moved busily, pushing infinitesimal trucks. But Quelch explained that surface work had practically ceased. The real labour took place out of sight.
“It is down in the bowels of the earth that the work goes on,” he said. “Thousands of natives groping and toiling in the gloom—for women.” He had only put her own thoughts into words, but, somehow, spoken in his arresting tones, the fact became more potent. “I was going to say for women like you, but that would have been foolish. There is no other woman in the world like you.”
His habit of looking abstractedly into distance while he talked lent an impersonal note to his remarks that was strangely contradicted by his voice. Young as she was, Loree Temple had tasted the sweets of homage before now, and learned when it is fitting to lightly accept or coldly pass them by. But this man’s homage, both bold and subtle, was outside of her experience. She was a little frightened—disturbed yet held in thrall. She had an instinct that he was dangerous, but wild horses could not have dragged her away. In the meantime, she used such women’s gifts as the good God had given her. She gave a little careless laugh.
“Oh—there are lots of women like me in the world. But diamonds are not for all of us.”
He looked steadily across the mine.