fishness and hunger. But if we three told each other the truth--and
ourselves, too--we could be free this instant. You, Esther, if you would
tell Choate here how you've loved that necklace and what you've done for
it, why, you'd free him."

Esther cried out here, a little sharp cry of rage against him.

"I see," said she, "it's only an attack on me. That's where all your
talk is leading."

"No, no," said Jeff earnestly. "I assure you it isn't. But if you owned
that, Esther, you'd be ashamed to want glittering things. And Choate
would get over wanting you. And that's what he'd better do."

The impudence of it, Choate knew, was only equalled by its coolness.
Jeff was at this moment believing so intently in himself that he could
have made anybody--but an angry woman--believe also. Jeff was telling
him that he mustn't love Esther, and virtually also that this was
because Esther was not worthy to be loved. But if Choate's only armor
was silence, Esther had gathered herself to snatch at something more
effectual.

"You say we're all prisoners to something," she said to Jeffrey. Her
face was livid now with anger and her eyes glowed upon him. "How about
you? You came into this house and took the necklace. Was that being a
prisoner to it? How about your being free?"

Choate turned his eyes away from her face as if it hurt him. The taunt
hurt him, too, like unclean words from lips beloved. But he looked
involuntarily at Jeff to see how he had taken them. Jeff stood in
silence looking gravely at Esther, but yet as if he did not see her. He
appeared to be thinking deeply. But presently he spoke, and as if still
from deep reflection.

"It's true, Esther. I'm a prisoner, too. I'm trying to see how I can get
out."

Choate spoke here, adopting the terms of Jeff's own fancy.

"If you want us all to understand each other, you could tell Esther why
you took the necklace. You could tell us both. We seem to be thrown
together over this."

"Yes," said Jeff. "I could. I must. And yet I can't." He looked up at
Alston with a smile so whimsical that involuntarily Alston met it with a
glimmer of a smile. "Choate, it looks as if I should have to be a
prisoner a little longer--perhaps for life."

He went toward the door like a man bound on an urgent errand, and
involuntarily Alston turned to follow him. The sight hurt Esther like an
indignity. They had forgotten her. Their man's country called them to
settle man's deeds, and the accord