She left her and, stepping into her bedroom, donned a Watteau-like cooking-apron, and, slipping her rings from her fingers, fixed the three on her pin-cushion with a hatpin. From the mirror in which she surveyed herself she could see the interior of the studio—Nan Charters' laughing face above the piano, where she was running off a succession of topical songs, surrounded by a chorus of men, while Beecher, at her side, solicitously turned the pages.
"Teddy seems quite taken," she thought. But the tensity of the drama drove from her all other considerations. Completely mystified by Majendie's manner, she was studying the moment when she could throw him together with Elise Bloodgood, convinced that from the woman she would learn what the man concealed.
"Your rings are beautiful, dear, beautiful," said the deep voice of Maud Lille, who, with Garraboy and Mrs. Cheever, was in the room.
"I never saw the ruby before," said Mrs. Cheever in a nervous voice. "My dear, you are the most mysterious woman in the world. Think of having a ring like that, and never wearing it!"
"It is a wonderful stone," said Mrs. Kildair, touching with her thin fingers the ring that lay uppermost.
"It is beautiful—very beautiful," said the journalist, her eyes fastened on it with an uncontrollable fascination.
Mrs. Cheever, her lips parted, her black eyes wide with eagerness, leaned over. She put out her fingers and let them rest caressingly on the ruby, withdrawing them as though the contact had burned them, while on either cheek little spots of red excitement showed.
"It must be very valuable," she said, her breath catching slightly.
Garraboy, moving forward, suddenly looked at the ring.
"Yes, it is valuable—very much so," said Mrs. Kildair, glancing down. Then she went to the door that led into the studio, and clapped her hands: