“To buy a diamond ring, I suppose,” said Barry, jocosely.
“No—not to buy, but to sell one.”
“You are joking,” said his companion, incredulously.
“No, I am not. The ring belongs to my mother. I am trying to raise money enough on it to buy you out.”
“I didn't know your mother was rich enough to indulge in such expensive jewelry.”
“She isn't, and that's the reason I am trying to sell it.”
“I mean, I didn't think she was ever rich enough.”
“I'll explain it,” said Paul. “The ring was found some time since in Central Park. As no owner has ever appeared, though we advertised it, we consider that it belongs to us.”
“How much is it worth?”
“Mr. Tiffany offered two hundred and fifty dollars for it.”