He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet—the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires.
"For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight.
"For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?"
She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder.
"No, no, not now," she said quickly.
"Why not?"
"Father mightn't like it. I'd have to ask him."
"D——n your father!"
"And that fool, Leopold, is so insanely jealous."