‘There is something else for you, darling—a locket, which Gerald asks me to give you from him. He hopes you will wear it at your first ball.’ She opened a small blue velvet case, and Daphne beheld an oval locket of dead dull gold with a diagonal band of sapphires. It had a kind of moonlight effect which was very fascinating. ‘No,’ said Daphne gently, but with unmistakable resolve; ‘I will accept jewels from no one but you. You can afford to give me all I shall ever want, and it is a pleasure to you to give—I know that, dearest—and to me to receive. I cannot accept Mr. Goring’s gift, although I appreciate his kindness in offering it.’ ‘Daphne! He will be dreadfully wounded.’ ‘No, he won’t. He will understand that I have a touch of pride. From my sister all the benefits in the world; but from him nothing—except this cold white bud!’ She put it to her lips involuntarily, unconsciously; but the contact of the flower he had touched thrilled her with mysterious passion—as if it were his very soul that touched her soul. She shivered and turned pale. ‘My pet, you are looking so ill this morning, so cold and wretched,’ said Madoline, looking up from fond contemplation of her lover’s gifts just in time to see that white wan look of Daphne’s. ‘I am well enough, but it is a cold wretched morning,’ answered Daphne, as she bent over the fire, spreading out her dimpled hands before the blaze. ‘Don’t you think New Year’s Day is a horrid anniversary?—beginning everything over again from a fresh starting-point; tempting one to think about the future; obliging one to look back at the past and be sorry for having wasted another year. You will go to church, I suppose, and take your dose of remorse in an orthodox form!’ ‘Won’t you come with me, Daphne? Everyone ought to go to church on New Year’s Day, even if it were not a sacred anniversary.’ ‘Yes, I’ll come, if you like. I may as well be there as anywhere else.’ ‘My darling, is that the way to speak or to think about it?’ ‘I don’t know. I’m afraid I am desperately irreligious. If I had ever found religion do me any good I might be more seriously-minded, perhaps. But when I pray, my prayers seem to come back to me unheard. I am always asking for bread, and getting a stone.’ ‘Dearest, there can be but one reason for that. You do not pray rightly. Constant, fervent prayer never failed yet to bring a blessing: perhaps not the very blessing we have asked for, but something purer, higher—the peace of God which passeth all understanding. That for the most part is God’s answer to faithful prayer.’ ‘Perhaps that is it. I pray in a half-hearted way. “My words fly up, my thoughts remain below.” I am anchored too heavily to this wicked world. I stretch out my hands to heaven, but not my heart: that is of the earth earthy.’ ‘Come to church, dear, and this solemn day will bring serious thoughts.’