"It is a personal matter," she said. (This was merely to gain time.)

"It is personal to me also."

"I do not wish to show it to you."

"No. But--do not force me to insist."

These two wasted but few words upon each other. It was not
necessary. Desire took a quick step backward. And, as she did so,
the desired inspiration came. Directly behind her stood the table on
which lay Aunt Caroline's box of photographs. If she could, without
turning, substitute one of them for the tell-tale picture in her
hand--

"You will hardly insist, I think." Her eyes were on him, cool and
wary. She took another step backward. He did not follow her. There
was a faint smile on his lips but his face, she noticed with
perturbation, had gone very pale. His eyes were shining and chill,
like water under grey skies.

"Please," he said, holding out his hand.

Desire let her glance go past him. "The door!" she murmured. He
turned to close it. It gave her only a moment. But a moment was all
she needed.

"Surely we are making a fuss over nothing." With difficulty she kept
a too obvious relief out of her voice. He must not find her