enraged you with my sullen ways. And now that bite--"

"It was in self-defence; it was high time to bring me to my senses.
As I said before, it is nothing at all to signify. Do not talk of
being forgiven; you only did me good, and I thank you for it. And
now, here is your handkerchief; take it with you."

He held it to her, but yet she lingered, hesitated, and appeared to
have some inward struggle. At length she said: "You have lost your
jacket, and by my fault; and I know that all the money for the
oranges was in it. I did not think of this till afterward. I cannot
replace it now; we have not so much at home--or if we had, it would
be mother's. But this I have--this silver cross. That painter left
it on the table the day he came for the last time. I have never
looked at it all this while, and do not care to keep it in my box;
if you were to sell it? It must be worth a few piastres, mother
says. It might make up the money you have lost; and if not quite, I
could earn the rest by spinning at night when mother is asleep."

"Nothing will make me take it," he said shortly, pushing away the
bright new cross, which she had taken from her pocket.

"You must," she said; "how can you tell how long your hand may keep
you from your work? There it lies; and nothing can make me so much
as look at it again."

"Drop it in the sea, then."

"It is no present I want to make you; it is no more than is your
due; it is only fair."