"Of course I didn't."
"Molly," said George, weighing his words, "you are without exception the dearest, sweetest, loveliest, most perfect and angelic thing that ever lived."
"I know. Aren't you lucky?"
"You saw at once that the girl was mad, didn't you? You realised immediately that she was suffering from some sort of obsession, poor soul, which made her...."
"No, I didn't. I couldn't think what it was all about at first, and then father came in and said that my pearl necklace had disappeared, and I understood."
"Your pearl necklace? Disappeared?"
"She stole it. She was a thief. Don't you see? It was really awfully clever. She couldn't have got it any other way. But when she burst in and said all those things about you, naturally she took everybody's attention off the wedding-presents. And then she pretended to faint on the table, and just snapped the necklace up and rushed out, and nobody guessed what had happened."
George drew in a whistling breath. His fists clenched. He stared coldly at one of the potted shrubs as if it had done him a personal injury.
"If ever I meet that girl...."
Molly laughed.