THE GOLDEN BOWL
was what had worked in him—especially after the price I had paid."
Her story had dropped an instant; she still brought it out in small waves of energy, each of which spent its force; so that he had an opportunity to speak before this force was renewed. But the quaint thing was what he now said. "And what, pray, was the price?"
She paused again a little. "It was high certainly—for those fragments. I think I feel as I look at them there rather ashamed to say."
The Prince then again looked at them; he might have been growing used to the sight. "But shall you at least get your money back?"
"Oh I'm far from wanting it back—I feel so that I'm getting its worth." With which, before he could reply, she had a quick transition. "The great fact about the day we're talking of seems to me to have been quite remarkably that no present was then made me. If your undertaking had been for that, that was not at least what came of it."
"You received then nothing at all?" The Prince looked vague and grave, almost retrospectively concerned.
"Nothing but an apology for empty hands and empty pockets; which was made me—as if it mattered a mite!—ever so frankly, ever so beautifully and touchingly."
This Amerigo heard with interest, yet not with confusion. "Ah of course you couldn't have minded!" Distinctly, as she went on, he was getting the better of the mere awkwardness of his arrest; quite as if making out that he need suffer arrest from her now—be-
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