"Ah, yes! My chain! You did say that, did n't you?" She stared at him meditatively. "What do you really think it is worth?"
"It would be hard to say right here." He had grown extremely American in accent and speech. "But if you would call and see me with it. Are you staying in Paris?"
"Yes."
He got out a card.
"Well, here is my office address--Rue de Bach. Call any time you like, but soon, as I am off to England again in three days."
"I will come to-morrow," she said. "In the meantime, would n't it be a good thing for you to take the necklace with you and examine it?"
She detached it from her neck with some little difficulty, for the clasp was a firm one, and held it out. The Jew looked at her with eyes in which for a moment there hovered a shade of something like pity that quickly turned to pleasure. A faint flush came into his face, and as he took the necklace he pressed her hand warmly. In America where he had been for the past five years such a trusting spirit as Val's was not met with every day in the week, and the rencontre refreshed his jaded Hebraic heart like wine.
"You just come," he said cordially, "and I bet I 'll have something good to tell you."
Immediately afterwards she was called to open her luggage, and bade him good-bye, telling him that she had some one waiting for her.
All the way of the long drive across Paris, she sat cogitating the question of the necklace. Even if it turned out to be of value, ought she to part with it? Would ill luck come to her for parting with her mother's mascot? Could any worse luck than she already had, come to her, she began to ask herself in irony? Then she stopped and flung her arms round Bran. Yes; yes. Ill luck can always come to mothers. Mothers are never safe--nor fathers! She thought of Sacha lying still on the beach, and of that stern look on his father's face!