His jaw dropped. She continued to posture lightly before him, an exquisitely fragile and pretty shape of youth deathless and audacious, a dainty spirit of mockery temptingly incarnate, diabolically sage, diabolically sure of the potency of her time-old lures.... What she had urged was true enough, too true; idle to let scruples on her account work his undoing. Let her alone and she'd get along, no fear, she'd get other jewels when she wanted them, just as she'd said, she'd go far.... At heart as wanton as he was weak....
He felt a creeping tide of blood begin to scorch his face, and avoided the cynical challenge of her eyes.
"If you're content," he mumbled ... "daresay there's nothing more to be said."
She nodded gayly, repeating the word "Nothing!" in a flute-like note of mirth. Hanging his head, he began wretchedly to stuff the plunder into his pockets, muttering half to himself: "What a pity! If only I could have had a bit of luck; if only we could have hit it off——!"
"If you hurry," she reminded him, "you can catch the night train for San Francisco, you can just about make it."
"Well...." He glanced uneasily at her, and again was conscious of the heat in his cheeks. "So it comes to this at last ... eh? ... good-bye!"
"Good-bye," she repeated, amiably casual.
"I daresay...." He gave a dubious chuckle. "Daresay it's stupid but, well, the usual thing, you know...."
"Usual thing?" she parroted, with faintly knitted brows.
"To kiss good-bye."