"I—I don't know."
"You don't wish to ask Mr. Winnington?"
"Certainly not! They have nothing to do with him. They are my own personal property," she added proudly.
"Still he might object—Ought you not to ask him?"
"I shall not tell him!" She straightened her shoulders. "He has far too much bother on my account already."
"Of course, if I could do anything for you—I should be delighted. But I don't know why you should trust me. You don't know anything about me!" He laughed uncomfortably.
Delia laughed too—in some confusion. It seemed to him she suddenly realised she had done something unusual.
"It is very kind of you to suggest it—" she said, hesitating.
"Not at all. It would amuse me. I have some threads I can pick up still—in Bond Street. Let me advise you to concentrate on that rivière. If you really feel inclined to trust me, I will take it to a man I know; he will show it to—" he named a famous firm. "In a few days—well, give me a week—and I undertake to bring you proposals. If you accept them, I will collect the money for you at once—or I will return you the necklace, if you don't."
Delia clasped her hands.