“How could you, dear? Well, I felt an enormous respect.”
“I wonder you didn’t hate me.”
“I did—till luncheon next day. Like thunder. And then . . .” She hesitated there and slid her arms round his neck. “You looked so nice, my darling, across our own table.”
“My sweet, my sweet . . .”
Ivan rose to his feet and put a hand to his throat.
A moment’s fumbling, and in his hand lay a ring. This was fast to a cord about his neck.
The girl gasped.
“Ivan! Since when?”
“Since the night we tore it,” he said.
He snapped the cord and took her left hand in his.