But his little verse this morning did not please Loree. A frown curled her brows. She knew she was not like a pearl. Neither did she want one. She was sick of pearls. They said nothing to her. Only the radiant fire of diamonds could charm her heart and ravish her imagination. She drew her treasures from beneath the pillow and kissed them. For two days and three nights she had owned them now, worn them hidden under her gowns, felt their soft scrape and rustle of them against her skin, drowned her senses in the secret joy of their possession. She was like a creature living under a spell that grew more and more potent every hour. The doors of her heart were closed against every other feeling and emotion. Her mind refused to remember anything she did not want to remember, and her conscience gave her no further trouble. It was either dead or fled.
She never asked herself where the diamonds had come from. It was the last thing she wished to know. Enough that they were hers by nine points of the law, and that no living soul had given sign or signal of knowing of their existence. The only fear she felt was that some one might steal them from her, ravish them from her grasp as suddenly and mysteriously as they had come. The peril of Quelch and his burning glances paled before that awful prospect. Besides, she had regained confidence in her power to keep him in hand. Having so far contrived to avoid being alone with him since the night of the theatre, she meant to continue to do so.
The morning after she had found the necklace, she feigned illness and stayed in bed all day. Before one o’clock, Quelch had heard of her indisposition and roses began to arrive. The room was almost filled with them—bales of colour, dew, and perfume. Mrs Cork, who walked in on the heels of a maid with a tray, said that they scented the whole hotel and made it smell like the rose garden of Persia.
Morning a thousand roses brings, you say?
Yes; but where blows the rose of yesterday?
she misquoted drily, standing by the bedside. Loree mentally and uncharitably applied the last phrase to her visitor, though in her own roselike beauty, as yet untouched by time, she could have afforded to be generous. But she was cross with Mrs Cork, and wanted her to go away. She knew of more alluring occupations than listening to that lady’s arid remarks. But Valeria had after all something interesting to propound.
“You know the Duke of Carrington is out here, don’t you, with the Duchess and their daughter Princess Evelyn?”
“Yes. They’re up in Rhodesia now. My husband met them at a reception in Buluwayo.”
“Well, they’re passing through Kimberley in three days’ time, and as they are anxious to see the diamonds and the diamond magnates and their wives are anxious to see them, a ball is to be given in the Royal honour. So every one will be pleased, let us hope.”
“But how exciting!” cried Loree ignoring the irony that tinged all Mrs Cork’s remarks. “When is it to be, and where?”
“In three nights’ time, here at the Belgrove. The Club will be too small to hold the crush. The invitations are being rushed out, as of course it’s rather sudden and impromptu. I can get you one if you care to come.”