She continued to stare for some moments, while he stood frozen to the spot. Then the young lady’s face changed. Fear, startled wonder, gave way to an expression of growing comprehension and into her eyes came such an excited look.
“You!” said Miss Dolly in a thrilling whisper. And then—“Pick it up, please.”
Instead of picking anything up—he didn’t know what—Bob was about to rush for the door, when— “Stop! Or I’ll scream,” exclaimed Miss Dolly. “I’ll scream so loud I’ll wake every one in the house.”
Bob stopped. In his eyes was an agony of contrition and shame. Miss Dolly, however, seemed quite self-possessed. She might have been frightened at first, but she was no longer that. Her temperamental, somewhat childish face wore a thrill of pleasurable anticipation. “Now pick it up,” she repeated.
“What?” stammered Bob in a shrinking voice.
“The brooch, to be sure. Didn’t you drop it?”
“I?” said Bob, drawing his dressing-gown closer about him. They were speaking in stage whispers.
“Of course. Wasn’t it what you came for?”
“Came for? Great heavens!—Do you think?—”
“Think?” said Miss Dolly. “I know.”