"If that means respecting the institution of marriage and adoring women as angels I hope I'll remain an innocent."
"Oh, women are angels, of course," said Hay as they walked down Gwynne Street; "it's a stock phrase in love-making. But there are angels of two sorts. Dulcinea is—"
"Here we are," interrupted Paul, quickly. Somehow it irritated him to hear this hardened sinner speak of Sylvia, and he began to think that Grexon Hay had deteriorated. Not that he was considered to be particularly good at Torrington school. In fact, Paul remembered that he had been thoroughly disliked. However, he had no time to go into the matter, for at this moment Aaron appeared at the door of the shop. He stepped out on to the pavement as Paul approached. "Come in," he said, "I want to see you—privately," he added, casting a frightened look at Hay.
"In that case I'll leave you," said Grexon, disengaging his arm from Paul. "Dulcinea must wait for another occasion. Go in and do your business. I'll wait without."
Paul thanked his friend by a look and went into the shop with the old man. "That brooch," said Aaron, in a timid whisper, "have you got it? Give it to me—quick—quick."
There was no one in the shop as Bart had apparently gone out on an errand. The door leading to the stairs, down which Sylvia had so often descended, was closed, and no one was about to overhear their conversation. "I have the brooch," said Paul, "but—"
"Give it to me—give it," panted Aaron. "I'll buy it—at a large price. Ask what you want."
"Why are you so eager to get it?" demanded Beecot, astonished.
"That's my business," said Norman, in a suddenly imperious manner. "I want it. The stones take my fancy," he ended weakly.
"Was that why you fainted?" asked Paul, suspiciously.