And she realised with a twinge of sincere regret that she would never dare return and share these happier fortunes with those two unhappy partners of her days of suffering and privation.
She wasn't heartless; she had thought frequently of them before, but always with the notion that she would some day, and by happy chance some day not distant, reveal her transfigured self to them and, out of the plenitude of her blessings, lend them a little, and much more than a little, aid and comfort. Something of that sort, indeed, was the least she could do; it was but justice; it was simply repayment of acknowledged indebtedness. And now, it seemed, it might never be!
From this she passed into new wonder and bewilderment at the duplicity of Savage and his sister, and the mystery of their motives and the still deeper mystery of their actions, and the inscrutable mystery of the boat that had landed on the beach of Gosnold House at three o'clock in the morning.
All of which led her suddenly to make sure of the jewel-box.
It was no longer in its place of concealment.
Mrs. Gosnold, she assumed, must have removed it.
But for what purpose? To what end?
A knock on the door announced the arrival of her costume by the hands of Mrs. Gosnold's personal maid.
"And Mrs. Gosnold says please will you come to her boudoir, miss, directly you're dressed?"
"Tell her I'll be there in fifteen minutes."