Now, in our search, it chanced that we drew near together, and once her hand touched mine, and once her soft hair brushed my cheek, and there stole over me a perfume like the breath of violets, the fragrance that I always associated with her, faint and sweet and alluring—so much so, that I drew back from further chance of contact, and kept my eyes directed to the floor.
And, after I had sought vainly for some time, I raised my head and looked at Charmian, to find her regarding me with a very strange expression.
"What is it?" I inquired. "Have you found the needle?" Charmian sat back on her heels, and laughed softly.
"Oh, yes, I've found the needle, Peter, that is—I never lost it."
"Why, then—what—what did you mean—?"
For answer, she raised her hand and pointed to my breast. Then, glancing hurriedly down, I saw that the locket had slipped forward through the bosom of my shirt, and hung in plain view. I made an instinctive movement to hide it, but, hearing her laugh, looked at her instead.
"So this was why you asked me to stoop to find your needle?"
"Yes, Peter."
"Then you—knew?"
"Of course I knew."