But you must make more." The mirth had died out of her eyes; she was deeply in earnest.

Calumet could see that, and the knowledge kept him silent, hushed the half-formed sarcastic replies that were on his lips, made his suspicions seem brutal, preposterous, ridiculous.

There was much feeling in her voice; he was astonished and awed at the change in her; he had not seen her like this before.

Her reserve was gone, the disdain with it; there was naked sincerity in her glowing eyes, in her words, in her manner.

He watched her, fascinated, as she continued: "I think you can see now that if I had wanted to be dishonest you could not have stopped me.