"Here and what you are. That's what I'm telling you."
She shuddered imperceptibly; looked down and up again, swiftly, her expression inscrutable, her voice a-tremble between laughter and tears: "Well?"
"Eh?" The directness of her query figuratively brought him up all standing, canvas flapping and wind out of his sails.
"What are you offering me in exchange for my silly dream?" she inquired, a trace of spirit quickening her tone.
"A fair exchange, I think … something that I wouldn't offer you if you hadn't been able to dream." He paused, doubtful, clumsy.
"Go on," she told him faintly…. Since it must come, as well be over with it.
"See here." He took heart of desperation. "You took to Maitland when you thought he was me. Why not take to me for myself? I'm as good a man, better as a man, than he, if I do blow my own horn…. You side with me, little woman, and—and all that—and I'll treat you square. I never went back on a pal yet. Why," brightening with enthusiasm as his gaze appraised her, "with your looks and your cleverness and my knowledge of the business, we can sweep the country, you and I."
"Oh!" she cried breathlessly.
"We'll start right now," he plunged on, misreading her; "right now, with last night's haul. You'll chuck this addled sentimental pangs-of-conscience lay, hand over the jewels, and—and I'll hand 'em back to you the day we're married, all set and … as handsome a wedding present as any woman ever got…."
She twisted in her chair to hide her face from him, fairly cornered at last, brain a-whirl devising a hundred maneuvers, each more helpless than the last, to cheat and divert him for the time, until … until….