of fortune, and you have my fortune—my fortune—in your hair! Twelve did I say I'd give? For my fortune back again I'll give you fifteen thousand pounds!"
"Fifteen thousand pounds!" Her Grace's hands veiled her Grace's face again. "Am I going mad? Fifteen thousand pounds!" She sat down. Her agitation seemed extraordinary. She was positively trembling. "It is not to be thought of."
"I will give you twenty!"
"Twenty—twenty thousand pounds!"
There was silence. Mr. Brooke leaned forward, looking down at her. She looked up at him. With her right hand she grasped the upper portion of her corsage. This time there was no mistake about it—between her fingers she pressed that programme of the ball. Her face became cold and set. She became all at once a little older. The character of her beauty seemed to change. It was stern and hard.
"Your behaviour is that of a madman. I am scarcely less mad than you, or I should not continue to listen. How am I to know that you are not, as you very probably are, trifling with me all the time?"
"Promise me that the diamond shall be mine if I bring you the money in the morning."
"Twenty thousand pounds?"
"Twenty thousand pounds!"
"Twenty? I will give you thirty!"
The voice said "dirty." Mr. Brooke sprang round. Her Grace stood up. A little man, almost as broad as he was tall, was standing at the open door. Entering, he closed the door behind him.
