Much later Cecilia stood at the foot of the broad stair.
"Where's your necklace?" asked Jeremiah.
"Oh," said Cecilia, "I forgot it, but I want to wear it. I do! I'm going to get it now." She turned from him and ran up the steps.
"Here he is!" she heard John call from the porch. Then came Marjory's loud laugh. Cecilia's breath came fast, and her fingers trembled as they clasped the new necklace about her throat. She stood before the mirror a minute before she started down. "It is beautiful," she said, "and I am proud to wear it!"
That night Cecilia lay long wakeful. She had not slept much or well lately. She heard the different clocks follow each other with minutes' difference in their chimes. Hour after hour.... Cruel hours.... Control left her and she turned from side to side, restlessly moving into what seemed, each time, a more restless position.
She hoped K. Stuyvesant had believed her when she said she thought her new necklace beautiful. She remembered John's sneer and his question: "Been shopping at the 'Five and Ten'?"
Best, she remembered Jeremiah's proud pleasure in his gift. The remembrance hurt, and made her feel little.
There was a tap on her door which made her strained nerves leap. She sat up in bed and turned on the lights, blinking in their glare.
"What is it?" she called.
"It is I," answered Marjory. "I've been wakeful. I want to talk with you for a moment."