And it was that moment that Mr. Waddington chose to come in to present the green jade necklace. He was wearing his canary yellow waistcoat. Barbara closed her sketch-book hurriedly and laid it on the table. She kept one arm over it while she received and opened the leather case where the green necklace lay on its white cushion. "For _me_? Oh, it's too heavenly. How awfully sweet of you." "Do you like it, Barbara?" "I love it." Compunction stung her when she thought of her drawings, especially the one where he was getting into bed. She said to herself: "I'll never do it again. Never again.... And I won't show it to Ralph." "Put it on," he commanded, "and let me see you in it." She lifted it from the case. She raised her arms and clasped it round her neck; she went to the looking-glass. And, after the first rapt moment of admiration, Mr. Waddington possessed himself of the uncovered sketch-book. Barbara saw him in the looking-glass. She turned, with a cry: "You mustn't! You mustn't look at it." "Why not?" "Because I don't let anybody see my sketches." "You'll let _me_." "I _won't_!" She dashed at him, clutching his arm and hanging her weight on it. He shook himself free and raised the sketch-book high above her head. She jumped up, tearing at it, but his grip held. He delighted in his power. He laughed. "Give it me this instant," she said. "Aha! She's got her little secrets, has she?" "Yes. Yes. They're all there. You've no business to look at them." He caracoled heavily, dodging her attack, enjoying the youthful violence of the struggle. "Come," he said, "ask me nicely." "Please, then. _Please_ give it me." He gave it, bowing profoundly over her hand as she took it. "I wouldn't look into your dear little secrets for the world," he said. They sat down amicably. "You'll let me stay with you a little while?" "Please do. Won't you have one of my cigarettes?" He took one, turning it in his fingers and smiling at it--a lingering, sentimental smile. "I think I know your secret," he said presently. "Do you?" Her mind rushed to Ralph. "I think so. And I think you know mine." "Yours?" "Yes. Mine. We can't go on living like this, so close to each other, without knowing. We may try to keep things from each other, but we can't. I feel as if you'd seen everything." She said to herself: "He's thinking of Mrs. Levitt." "I don't suppose I've seen anything that matters," she said. "You've seen what my life is here. You can't have helped seeing that Fanny and I don't hit it off very well together." "Fanny's an angel." "You dear little loyal thing.... Yes, she's an angel. Too much of an angel for a mere man. I made my grand mistake, Barbara, when I married her." "She doesn't think so, anyhow."