In Heaven's name--then--long ago, when you came to Hatchstead--what then?
Weren't you then----" "No gem," said she.

"Even then a pebble." Her voice sank a little, as though for a single moment some unfamiliar shame came on her.

"A common pebble," she added, echoing my words.
"Then God forgive you," said I again, and I leant my head on my hand.
"And you, good Simon, do you forgive me ?" I was silent.

She moved away petulantly, crying, "You're all so ready to call on God to forgive! Is forgiveness God's only?
Will none of you forgive for yourselves?
Or are you so righteous that you can't do what God must ?" I sprang up and came to her.
"Forgive ?" I cried in a low voice.

"Ay, I'll forgive.