“Do you like it?” questioned Zayata.
“It is wonderful!” exclaimed the girl.
“It is yours,” said the man.
“I–I don’t understand.” Margaret was looking toward Larkin. “What does it mean—”
“You do not understand me,” said Zayata’s voice, beside her. “When I say it is yours, I mean that it belongs to you; that you are free to keep it — although, unlike the emerald ring, it cannot be carried with you. I mean that, should you need a home, you are welcome to that one!”
“But — but I have a home — ” Margaret objected.
“You intended to leave it.”
“When?”
“When Robert Buchanan was ready to provide another one.”
“Of course. But Robert is no longer here. I wonder where he has gone—”