"Both. Tell me."
He set a condition. "One or the other, choose. Wait!" He went to his overcoat, which he had flung upon a chair, and drew a box from the pocket. "Now choose," he directed, holding up the box.
"Oh," she pouted, "that is one of Price's boxes. I can't know the cost if I am to see what you've bought. You'll show it to me, won't you?"
"You would like to see it?"
"Of course."
"Then open it," he said, giving her the box. "It's for you."
"For me?" and she opened the little case. "Oh, Mr. Wayne, a locket! What good taste you have—oh, and I didn't see the chain!" Then she regarded him reproachfully. "Now, Jim, you know you really mustn't."
"Always call me Jim!" he directed. "Why mustn't I?"
"Because you can't afford it."
"I can!" he asserted. "At least, I could when I bought it. I was three thousand to the good then."