"I owe your father an apology about the way I talked to him. You see, I didn't know that my pearl necklace was insured."
"And you have since learned differently?" Penny asked politely.
"Yes, my husband told me last night. He insured the pearls without telling me anything about it. Wasn't that fortunate?"
"Very," Penny agreed. "I suppose you feel greatly relieved."
"Oh, yes, but I still wish your father would take the case. You'll give him my apology?"
"Yes, indeed."
There was a little awkward silence as Mrs. Dillon waited for Penny to explain why she had called. The girl scarcely knew how to begin. She had been disarmed, as it were, by the society woman's manner.
"I wanted to talk to you about a picture which was taken from the Gage Galleries," she began hesitantly. "A Rembrandt."
A cold look came over Mrs. Dillon's face. "Yes?" she inquired.
Penny stirred uncomfortably. The interview was not to her liking. And when her father learned of it she was afraid it might not be to his liking either.