"This woman suddenly burst into the room where everybody was and pretended that I had made love to her and deserted her. Then she fell on the table where the wedding-presents were and pretended to faint. And then she dashed out, and some time afterwards it was discovered that the necklace was gone. And don't," he added, turning to the accused, "say that you only did it for your poor old ma's sake, because I've had a lot to put up with to-day, and that will be just too much."
Mr. Mullett clicked his tongue with a sort of sorrowful pride. Girls will be girls, Frederick Mullett seemed to say, but how few girls could be as clever as his little wife.
"Give Mr. Finch his necklace, pettie," he said mildly.
"I haven't got any necklace."
"Give it to him, dearie, just like Freddie says, or there'll only be unpleasantness."
"Unpleasantness," said George, breathing hard, "is right!"
"It was a beautiful bit of work, honey, and there isn't another girl in New York that could have thought it out, let alone gone and got away with it. Even Mr. Finch will admit it was a beautiful bit of work."
"If you want Mr. Finch's opinion ..." began George heatedly.
"But we've done with all that sort of thing now, haven't we, pettie? Give him his necklace, honey."
Mrs. Mullett's black eyes snapped. She twisted her pretty fingers irresolutely.