Laurence obeyed, and Sophia clasped it round the girl’s wrist.
“Keep it,” Sophia said.
“For me?” Laurence exclaimed, ravished. “It is too much.”
“It is not enough,” said Sophia. “And when you look at it, you must remember how kind you were to me, and how grateful I am.”
“How nicely you say that!” Laurence said ecstatically.
And Sophia felt that she had indeed said it rather nicely. This giving of the bracelet, souvenir of one of the few capricious follies that Gerald had committed for her and not for himself, pleased Sophia very much.
“I am afraid your nursing of me forced you to neglect Monsieur Cerf,” she added.
“Yes, a little!” said Laurence, impartially, with a small pout of haughtiness. “It is true that he used to complain. But I soon put him straight. What an idea! He knows there are things upon which I do not joke. It is not he who will quarrel a second time! Believe me!”
Laurence’s absolute conviction of her power was what impressed Sophia. To Sophia she seemed to be a vulgar little piece of goods, with dubious charm and a glance that was far too brazen. Her movements were vulgar. And Sophia wondered how she had established her empire and upon what it rested.
“I shall not show this to Aimee,” whispered Laurence, indicating the bracelet.