He nodded impartially.
"Yes, I see," he answered. "Well?"
"Well, that's all," said Margaret. "Oh, yes—you mean the—the kiss? That was absolutely nothing. I used to make him talk and he 'd been telling me about how hard it was to make a start with his work, and how grateful he was to me for listening to him, and I said there was no need to be so grateful, and that it was a noble thing he had undertaken and that—yes—that I 'd always be proud I 'd been a friend of his. I held out my hand as I was saying this, and instead of shaking it, he kissed it."
"That was what the blackmailer saw, was it?" asked Ford. Margaret nodded. "By the way, who paid him?"
"He did," Margaret answered. "I wouldn't have paid a penny. He insisted on paying."
She was watching him anxiously. He was frowning in deep thought. She felt her heart beat more rapidly as he remained for a time without answering.
"It was worth paying for, if the fellow had kept faith," he said at last. "The whole thing 's in that—you don't know what such a secret is worth. It 's the one thing that binds people together out here, Dutch and English, colonials and Transvaalers and all the rest—the color line. But you didn't know."
"Oh, yes," Margaret made haste to correct him. "I did know. But I didn't care and I don't care now. I 'm not going to take that kind of thing into account at all. I won't be bullied by any amount of prejudices."
"It isn't prejudice," said Ford wearily. "Still—we can't go into all that. I 'm glad you explained to me, though."
"You 're wondering still about something," Margaret said. She could read the doubt and hesitation that he strove to hide from her. "Do let 's have the whole thing out. What is it?"