Scott leaned towards her. "Dinah, my dear, you are torturing yourself," he said. "It's natural, I know. You have had no sleep, and you have cried yourself ill. But I am not going to give in to you. I am not going to take No for an answer. You have no plans for yourself, and I doubt if in your present state you are capable of forming any. Isabel wants you, and it would be cruel to disappoint her. So you and I will join her at Great Mallowes this afternoon. I will deal with your people in the matter, but I do not anticipate any great difficulty in that direction. Now that is settled, and you need not weary yourself with any further discussion. I am responsible, and I will bear my responsibility." His tone was kind but it held unmistakable finality. Dinah uttered a heavy sigh, and said no more. She lacked the strength for prolonged opposition. He persuaded her to drink some more of the milk, and made a cushion of his coat for her against the tree. "Perhaps you will get a little sleep," he said, as she suffered herself to relax somewhat. "Will it disturb you if I smoke?" "No," she said. He took out his case. "Shut your eyes!" he said practically. But Dinah's eyes remained open, watching him. He began to smoke as if unaware of her scrutiny. After several moments she spoke. "Scott!" He turned to her. "Yes? What is it?" The piteous, shamed colour rose up under his eyes. Again she turned her face away. "That--that sapphire pendant!" she murmured. "I brought it with me. Of course--I know--the presents will have to be returned. I didn't mean to--to run away with it. But--but--I loved it so. I couldn't have borne my mother to touch it. Shall I--shall I give it you now?" "No, dear," he answered firmly. "Neither now nor at any time. I gave it to you as a token of friendship, and I would like you to keep it always for that reason." "Always?" questioned Dinah. "Even if--if I never marry at all?" "Certainly," he said. "Because I never shall marry now," she said, speaking with difficulty. "I--have quite given up that idea." "I should like you to keep it in any case," Scott said. "You are very good," she said earnestly. "I--I wonder you will have anything to do with me now that you know how--how wicked I am." "I don't think you wicked," he said. "Don't you?" She opened her heavy eyes a little. "You don't blame me for--for--" She broke off shuddering, and as she did so, there came again the rumble and roar of a distant train. "Then why did you stop me?" she whispered tensely. Scott was silent for a moment or two. He was gazing straight before him. At length, "I stopped you," he said, "because I had to. It doesn't matter why. You would have done the same in my place. But I don't blame you, partly because it is not my business, and partly because I know quite well that you didn't realize what you were doing."