He tendered it to Zayata, who, in turn, placed it in Margaret’s hands. The girl gasped as she looked at the beautiful design of the box. She realized that it was Zayata’s gift to her, and she raised her head to express her gratitude for his kindness.
“Open it!” said Zayata.
Margaret lifted the lid of the box. Her lips opened as she saw what was within. The box contained a ring, upon which was mounted an exquisite emerald — a stone of wonderful brilliance and of great value.
“Place it on your finger,” suggested Zayata.
He did not wait for the girl to act. Reaching forward, he gently removed the box from her hands and set it in her lap. He then slid the ring on the little finger of the girl’s left hand.
Margaret sighed as she saw how pitifully her diamond engagement ring contrasted with this gorgeous gift. For she was wearing the token which Robert Buchanan had given her months before — she always wore it when her uncle did not know.
“But — but” — Margaret was stammering — “I can’t accept — such a wonderful gift—”
“It is a trifle,” declared Zayata. “You have gone to a great deal of trouble paying me this visit. I want you to feel that you have been rewarded.”
THE girl made no further protest. Somehow, she seemed in a new world. It was like a dream from the “Arabian Nights” and she seemed incapable of making any effort of her own accord.
Before she knew it, she was speaking to Zayata, pouring out thoughts that she had intended not to say.