When he was gone, she caught up the sheet of paper and hastily glanced at it.
"1880—studs, pin, money advanced £50. 1881—ring, money advanced £100; bracelet, necklace, pendant, money advanced £150——" and so on. Further down the page, Nan's eye was caught by the words: "Diamond and sapphire ring."
"Ah!" she said, catching her breath as if she were in pain, and laying the paper down on the table, "that was mine!"
The ring was on her finger as she spoke. It had been her engagement ring. She looked at it for a minute or two, then slowly, took it off and put it into the drawer.
Next, with an absent look upon her face, she took up a small taper, and lighted it; and, holding Mr. Copley's paper by one corner, she raised it to the flame and converted it into ashes. One line escaped. A fragment of the paper was scorched but not consumed, and as she took it up to make her work more thorough, the words and a date caught her attention once again.
"Bracelet, necklace, pendant, bought after we knew each other," she murmured with a curious smile. "Those were not for me. I wonder——"
But she did not go on. It was the first time that a shadow from Sydney's past had crossed her life; and she dared not investigate it too closely. She put the bill and her cheque-book out of sight, and sat down to think over the present position of affairs.
Sydney came home just before lunch-time, and, hearing that she was in her own little sitting-room (she would not have it called a boudoir), went up to her. He looked vexed and anxious, as Nan was quick to notice, but he came up to her side and kissed her affectionately.
"Better, Nan?" She had not been very well when he left her: indeed, the delicacy of her health had lately been more marked, and had several times given him cause for uneasiness.
"Yes, thank you. But you don't look well, Sydney."