She slid her nail under the edge of the case of the locket and opened it.
"There!" she said triumphantly, holding the locket as far from her neck as the chain would allow. "Who is that?"
"Shall I really say?" I asked, hesitating on her account.
"Say? Of course! Who is that? Oh, I forgot! You never saw William Brown."
"No, I never did," said I, "except in a sickly looking picture that's giving some shark indigestion, I hope, by this time. But the picture that you do me the honour to wear is myself."
"It isn't!" said Cynthia flatly.
"It is!" said I.
"Good Heavens, no!"
She snapped the slide of the chain apart, held the locket up before her eyes, gave one glance at the face, and then, with a quick movement of her hand, she tossed the locket into the stream.
"Why don't you throw it into the sea?" asked I.