It was some moments before she replied. “It was an antique.”
Tom’s heart grew heavy again. At every question he ran into a blank wall. How was he ever to disprove Representative J. Calhoun-Cooper’s absurd statement unless he had something tangible to work on. The bracelet was surely bewitched by some evil genius.
“An antique? That’s hard luck,” he answered finally. “If it is really lost through my carelessness in trusting a servant, I shall want to replace it....”
“You mustn’t think of such a thing,” vehemently.
“Oh, but I insist. You draw the design and I’ll have it made.”
“I shouldn’t think of letting you go to all that expense,” protested Janet.
“To think I made you lose an ornament you value!” groaned Tom. “I, who would move heaven and earth to spare you the slightest....” but Janet never waited for him to complete the sentence; she had caught sight of Chichester Barnard standing in the doorway talking to Mrs. Walbridge. His back was turned to them; it was just possible that he had not seen that she was with Tom. She sprang to her feet.
“Do forgive me,” she whispered hurriedly. “Marjorie has just waved to me; I must go. Please don’t follow me.” And before the startled officer could even get to his feet she had darted across the floor and out of the room, and brought up breathless beside Mrs. Walbridge.
“No sign of late hours in these rosy cheeks,” commented the latter, touching Janet’s scarlet face with her gloved finger. “She needs no beauty sleep.”
“Indeed, no,” agreed Barnard. “But I’m going to be selfish enough to ask Miss Janet to sit out a dance with me,” laying his hand with an air of possession on her arm which enlightened sentimental Mrs. Walbridge.