"
"But he offered them now?"
"No--or rather yes, he offered them," Piers smiled bitterly. "Not
however, out of wish to do justice."
Olga could not understand. She gazed at him wistfully.
"I bought them," said Piers. "It made the last proof of his
baseness."
"You gave money for them? And just that you might give them to me?"
"Wouldn't you have done the same, to clear the memory of someone you
loved?"
Olga laid the packet aside; then, with a quick movement, stepped
towards him, caught his hand, pressed it to her lips. Piers was
taken by surprise, and could not prevent the action; but at once
Olga's own hand was prisoned in his; they stood face to face, she
blushing painfully, he pale as death, with lips that quivered in
their vain effort to speak.
"I shall be grateful to you as long as I live," the girl faltered,
turning half away, trying gently to release herself.
Piers kissed her hand, again and again, still speechless. When he
allowed her to draw it away, he stood gazing at her like a man
bewildered; there was moisture on his forehead; he seemed to
struggle for breath.
"Let us sit down again and talk," said Olga, glancing at him.
But he moved towards her, the strangest look in his eyes, the fixed
expressionless gaze of a somnambulist.
"Olga----"
"No, no!" she exclaimed, as if suddenly stricken with fear, throwing
out her arms to repel him.
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