The words ended in a sobbing cry, but Sybil only gazed dumbly, and then looked helplessly about her.
"There, there, Conny," she said at last, as if soothing a hurt child; "don't mind me. It's true my life is worth more than his, but—I can't cry, I don't feel like crying."
"Then laugh," cried Constance desperately; "laugh and defy your tormentor; harden your heart if you must, but don't let it break."
"I won't," said Sybil, with quiet emphasis. "Now come and see my diamonds, Con."
She crossed the room as she spoke, bent over a dressing case, and came back with a tray of sparkling newly set jewels.
"Bah!" she said, as she dropped the glittering things one by one into her friend's lap. "How I loved their glitter once, and how I envied you your treasure of jewels; now you have lost your treasure, and I have no more love for mine."
Constance laughed oddly, as she bent to recover her hat from the floor, where it had lain during their interview.
"Secret for secret, Sybil," she said, with forced gaiety. "I have one little secret of mine own, and I am inclined to tell it you, because I know you can appreciate it, and can keep it; and I choose to have it kept. Bend down your head, dear, walls may have ears. Listen."
Sybil bent her dark head, and Constance whispered a few short sentences that caused her to spring up erect and excited.
"Constance! you are not jesting?"