She nestled closer to him; at his bidding her weeping died down and ceased.
"There, Cecile, you will give me the key now ?" he begged.
She glanced up at him shyly through wet lashes--as peeps the sun through April clouds.
"There is nothing I will not do for you, Caron," she murmured.

"See, I will even help you to play the traitor on my uncle.

For you love me a little, cher Caron, is it not so ?" He felt himself grow cold from head to foot, and he grew sick at the thought that by the indiscretion of his clumsy sympathy he had brought this down upon his luckless head.

Mechanically his arm relaxed the hold of her waist and fell away.

Instinctively she apprehended that all was not as she had thought.