She drew him gently to a seat by her side, leaned forward and gazed smilingly at him.
Stuart was silent a moment and turned suddenly on her.
"Because Nan, when I look into your face to-night and see its joy, I can't help thinking such happiness is a crime. I saw joy like that once on the face of an Italian I defended and acquitted of murder. I believed him innocent but when he was free he confessed to me his guilt, confessed with such joy that I sprang on him and choked him into silence."
"And you think of me as a murderess, Jim?"
"No, no, my dear little playmate, but when I see you to-night in all this splendour so insolently happy——"
Nan sprang to her feet laughing.
"You are delicious to-night, Jim, and I'm so glad you are here. Come into the art gallery. It will take you days to see it; we'll just peep in to-night."
He followed her into a stately room packed with masterpieces of art; gleaming marbles and sombre bronze in groups of bewildering beauty, with every inch of wall-space crowded with canvases in massive gold frames glowing with the soft radiance of concealed electric lights.
Stuart gazed a moment in rapture.
"You must spend days here, Jim. Now honestly, with all your high-browed ideals, wouldn't you like to own this?"