"Give them to me," she implored. "They are mine. And you must go away, Sir Anthony, and never come again."
"Why, I see"—holding the jewels in his hand—"they are his gifts. But you have thrown them off!"
His eyes blazed suddenly.
"It is an omen, Pam. Let him follow his jewels. What right has he to buy you? You had given yourself to me."
"Ah!" cried Pam, still stretching out her hands for the jewels. "You don't know what you are talking about. He is the best man in all the world; and our wedding-day is fixed, and my wedding-dress is ordered."
The young man flung the jewels on the ground.
The young man flung the jewels on the ground.
"There," he said, "let them lie where I found them. Why should we think of them? It is all a bad dream, Pamela, but not so bad as it might have been—not so bad as it might have been. Why, you are talking folly, Pam, about wedding-days and wedding-dresses. It is our wedding-day you must think of, and the wedding-dress you will wear for me."
He held out his arms to her imploringly, and for a moment, with a dazed look, she seemed as if she must come. Then she pushed him off with a gesture of her two hands.