"What have orchids to do with a man's duty?"
"Why did you give them to me?"
"Why? Because we are friends, if you will let us be."
"I was willing—am still—in spite of—everything. You know I am. If I can forgive you what you did to me in our stateroom last night, surely, surely Kervyn, you won't take any more chances with my forgiveness—will you?"
He said: "I shall have to if you force me to it. Karen—I never liked any woman as much as I like you. We have known each other two days and a night. But in that time we both have lived a long, long time."
She nodded, thoughtfully.
"Then—you know me now as well as you ever will know me. Better than any other woman has ever known me. When my mind is made up that a certain thing is to be done, I always try to do it, Karen.... And I know that I ought to have those papers.... And that I am going to have them. Is that clear—Karen, dear?"
She remained silent, brushing her orchids with her finger-tips, absent-eyed, serene. After a moment he thought that the ghost of a smile was hovering on her lips, but he was not sure.
Presently she looked up:
"Shall we lunch?" she asked.