She made no answer.
He laughed harshly. “You think of me as a man who would open your locket!”
Still she made no answer.
His voice dropped to a whisper. “O Sally! Sally!” he exclaimed.
“There are things on my side!” she said protestingly at last. “You can’t understand because you don’t know what was in the locket.”
“I could guess,” he said.
She went on, ignoring his remark: “And you have no explanation as to how it was opened and closed again. What am I to think?”
“Sally,” he said more gently, “isn’t it possible that the locket was shaken open when you fell and that the people who put you to bed closed it?”
“My maid put me to bed,” said the girl; “she says the locket when she saw it was closed.”
“Then perhaps the flower was lost before, and you had forgotten,” he suggested.