"Most engaging pet-name, I'm sure...." and went on with his paper.
Belinda was already coaxing Cuthbridge again.
"Come, now—fork up! I know you've got something for me hidden away in some pocket or other...."
Cuthbridge chuckled knowingly. This fat, pasha-like chuckle almost sent Loring bounding from his seat.
The next thing he heard was a little scream of delight from Belinda:
"Oh, Santa!... You dear ... you angel!... Oh, you shall have a prize for this!... Just you wait.... Look, mater! Just look what Lewis has brought me this time!"
Morris glanced up to see the girl whirling about with a necklace of great emeralds looped from hand to hand. The big, translucent stones hung like threaded coals of green fire from her white fingers. She danced up to her mother, then to Loring, thrusting the jewels under their noses.
"Emeralds! Emeralds!" she sang. "I'd sell my soul for emeralds!"
"If you had one to sell...." said Morris under his breath to her.
She didn't seem to hear him. Dancing back to Cuthbridge, she put the necklace into his hands again, and turning her back lowered her white nape and cushion of ruddy hair before him.