Then her voice broke in again upon his reflections.
"These, too, are yours.

Will you take them, please ?" She was pointing with her fan to the feathers upon the table.

Feversham obediently reached out his hand, and then drew it back in surprise.
"There are four," he said.
Ethne did not reply, and looking at her fan Feversham understood.

It was a fan of ivory and white feathers.

She had broken off one of those feathers and added it on her own account to the three.
The thing which she had done was cruel, no doubt.