"You need not mind that," he said. "There's an esthetic sense in nearly everybody that makes them glad to look at anything—radiant."
"Radiant means brilliance, doesn't it? Talking of brilliance, do you like this?"
She held out her arm with the bracelet on it. Chalfont had already noticed it. Now he gave it a closer inspection. Whilst being a good judge of precious stones he had a great liking for paste when it was old and good, but what he saw now was merely a product of the modern manufacturer.
"A French copy, isn't it?" he asked, thoughtlessly.
Maggy's eyes widened. French—copy? Her diamond bracelet a copy—imitation! She could not credit it.
"But—they're diamonds!" she stammered, filled with a horrible misgiving.
Chalfont noticed the sharp note of disappointment in her voice and put it down to one of two causes. Either she had been defrauded by somebody or the bracelet was a present meant to deceive her. He made haste to modify the opinion he had expressed about it. Looking at it once more, he said:
"Is it? I'm awfully sorry. Of course, I must be mistaken. Hullo!" he interjected with relief, "here are Mrs. Lambert and Miss Hersey."
XIX
Lunch was over. Chalfont had taken his departure; Mrs. Lambert had excused herself on account of a bad headache and gone to lie down. The two girls were alone. The personal equation began to trouble Maggy again.