"You don't!" she reiterated, looking at him steadily. For a moment he returned her look boldly, while her hands closed over his on the table; suddenly his eyes filled with tears and he bowed his head over her hands. Neither of them spoke for what seemed a long time. She saw he could not endure this strain, and came abruptly to earth. "More tea, John?" she asked, withdrawing her hands, and smiling at him, as though they had been foolish. For the next hour they were very practical. He explained his plans. The prospect of his work filled him with lively anticipation. "You know, I feel as if I were going home--as if I had a home," he said, "and if I hear Turkish spoken, although I have forgotten it all, I'm sure I shall lapse into those Amasia days again. I had a great friend there, a fellow called Ali--a Turk. I often wonder what's happened to him--whether he's been smashed up in it all. It's a silly world. Here I am, his official enemy--and we were sworn brothers. Look, I've still got his talisman here." He opened his shirt and pulled out the moonstone with the word "Kismet" inscribed upon it. "What a beautiful thing!" cried Mrs. Graham. "Would you like it?" he asked, impulsively. "No, John--you must not part with it, after all these years--and he gave it to you to keep." "But it's only silly sentiment, Mrs. Graham." "Sentiment is not always silly, John--'Kismet' who knows?" He laughed out gaily, and she was glad to hear him laugh so. There was the ring of youth in it still. "Very well then--I'll wear it because of you," he said. "And Ali?" she added. "And Ali," he echoed lightly. "But you shall have one gift for remembrance." "I would like something, certainly." "I shall not give it you except in an eventuality." She laughed at him. "Dear me, how formal and serious we are!" "It's a statue--my nickname too--'Narcissus listening to Echo.' You know it? Dear old Marsh gave it to me in one of his whimsical moods. It's damaged, but it's very lovely and I have a sentimental attachment to it for his sake. I want you to keep it safely for me--and if I never come to reclaim it," he said quietly, "I want it to become yours." She regarded him a moment, and saw that he was very serious, full of the drama of youth. "John dear, you're talking like a novelette; 'if you never come back'--that's always what the rejected hero says in the last chapter but one. You're not made of that kind of stuff. But I'll keep it gladly--and perhaps, when you come to claim it, I shall not be willing to part with it." He rose to go, but she saw that he had still something more to say. "Well?" she asked him, as he stood, hat in hand, after making arrangements for her to receive the statue. "You are wonderful, Mrs. Graham," he said, frankly. "You seem to read my thoughts." "Oh, no, but I see you have some. Tell me, John." He hesitated briefly, but her eyes helped him.