He took no sort of notice of that. His face, grave, as a rule, and strong, heretofore careworn too, had put on a strange boyish gaiety. He came up behind her chair. She tried to rise. He pressed her down, his hands on her shoulders. 'Sit still,' he commanded. 'Lean your head forward. You've got a plaguey lot of hair, Peggy!' 'What are you doing?' she demanded fiercely. 'You've ordered me about all day. Sit still.' She felt his fingers on her neck; then she felt too, the touch of things smooth and cold. A little clasp clicked home. Airey Newton sprang back. Peggy was on her feet in a moment. 'You've done that, after all?' she cried indignantly. 'You were at the end of your ideas. That's mine--and it balanced the thing out to the last farthing!' 'I told you it would spoil it all!' Her reproach was bitter, as she touched the string of pearls. 'No, Peggy,' he said. 'It only spoils it if it was a prank, an experiment, a test of your ingenuity, young woman. But it doesn't spoil it if it was something else.' 'What else?' she asked softly, sinking back again into her chair and fingering his present with a touch so gentle as to seem almost reverent. 'What else, Airey dear?' 'It came on me as I walked away from the shop--not while I was going there. I was rather unhappy till I got there. But as I walked home--with that thing--it seemed to come on me.' He was standing before her with the happy look of a man to whom happiness is something strange and new. '"That's it," I thought to myself, "though how the deuce that chit found it out----!" It would be bad, Peggy, if a man who had worshipped an idol kicked it every day after he was converted. It would be vicious and unbecoming. But he should kick it once in token of emancipation. If a man had loved an unworthy woman (supposing there are any), he should be most courteous to her always, shouldn't he?' 'As a rule,' smiled Peggy. 'As a rule, yes,' he caught up eagerly. 'But shouldn't she have the truth once? She'd have been a superstition too, and for once the truth should be told. Well, all that came to me. And that's the philosophy of it. Though how you found it out----! Well, no matter. So it's not a mere freak. Was it a mere test of your ingenuity, young friend?' 'I just had to try it,' said Peggy Ryle, bewildered, delighted, bordering on tears. 'So will you wear the pearls?' He paused, then laughed. 'Yes, and eat your bread-and-butter.' He came up to her, holding out his hands. 'The chains are loose, Peggy; the chains are loose.' He seized his pipe and began to fill it, motioning her again towards the tea-table. To humour him she went to it and took up a slice of bread-and-butter. 'A stale loaf, Airey!' she whispered--and seemed to choke before she tasted it in an anticipated struggle with its obstinate substance.