They paused in a corner of the terrace, where a low stone wall, grey, weathered and lichened, fenced the brow of the cliff; and Sally's glance compassed a panorama of sea and sky and rocky headlands, with little appreciation of its wild, exquisite beauty.
She uttered an absent-minded "Yes," hesitated, plunged boldly: "Mr. Trego, I do wish you'd let me give back this money!"
His slowness in replying moved her to seek an answer in his face. He was unquestionably sifting his surprise for some excuse for her extraordinary request; a deep gravity informed his heavy-lidded eyes that were keen with an intelligence far more alert than she had previously credited.
He said deliberately: "Why?"
"I'd rather not say." She offered the money in her open hand. "But I'd feel--well, easier, if you'd take it back."
He clasped his hands behind him and shook his head. "Not without good reason. I don't understand, and what I don't understand I can't be party to."
She tried the effect of a wistful smile. "Please! I wish you wouldn't make me tell you."
"I wish you wouldn't put me in such an uncomfortable position. I don't like to refuse you anything you've set your heart on, but my notion of playing the game is to lose like a loser and--win like a winner."
"That's just it. I can't win like a winner because--because I didn't win fairly."
"You never cheated."