She bent above the desk, her eyes aflame at the sight of the brilliance that lay before her. Something laughed up at her, spoke to her. Her bosom heaved a bit.
"I should say your choice is excellent, Mr. Rawn," said she at length, gently, controlling herself. "The pendant is beautiful, set with the emeralds. See that chain in platinum—it is a dear! It's like a thread of moonlight, isn't it? And as for the rings, I'd take this one, I believe, with the two steel-blue stones."
"How much?" said John Rawn, turning to the grave and gray salesman.
"The two pieces would cost you twenty-eight thousand dollars, sir," the latter replied, gravely and impersonally.
"Miss Delaware," said John Rawn, taking from his pocket his personal check book, "oblige me by making out a check for that amount. Bring it in to me directly—and have the boy call my car."
X
When John Rawn ascended the steps of his mansion house that night, he fairly throbbed with the sense of his own self-approval. There was that in his pocket which, he thought, when worn by the wife of John Rawn at any public place of display, would indicate what grade of life he, John Rawn, had shown himself fit to occupy. He lost no time in summoning his wife, and with small adieu put in her extended hand the little mass of trembling, shivering gems. She gazed at them almost stupefied.
"Well, well!" he broke out, "can't you say anything? What about it? They're yours."
"Oh, John!" she began. "John! What do you mean? How could you—how could I—"
He flung out his hand in a gesture of despair. "Oh, there you go again! Can't you fall into line at all?"