"Bother that boy!" stormed Denise. "There are three or four things I hate missing. Oh, bother! bother!" She stamped her foot in her impatience, frowning and biting at her fingers. "Oh, here, Esmé. Come to my room."
The maid was there, laying out a new gown.
"You can go, Sutton. Here! slip it away." Denise opened a case, pulled out a heavy pendant, a tasteless, valuable thing.
"Old Susan, Cyrrie's aunt, sent it to me when she heard I was a mother." Denise laughed. "Green said it was worth three hundred. I've loads of others, and no one will miss this. I'll get you the notes."
Denise was friendly again, more like her old self, but moved, as Esmé knew, by fear, and not by gratitude or love.
Denise was called to the telephone. Esmé was left alone for a time in the luxurious bedroom, standing by the open safe, enviously fingering the jewels. How lovely they were. A necklace of diamonds and emeralds; Cartier work; a jewelled snake with ruby eyes. A rope of pearls. Sapphires, opals, emeralds, all glowing as Esmé opened the cases.
"Oh, I thought her ladyship was here, mem," the maid had come in quietly. Esmé turned with a start.
"Her ladyship went to the telephone." Esmé closed her hand about the pendant, which she had been holding carelessly. She could see the maid watching her covertly.
"Oh, there you are, Denise." Esmé still held the heavy pendant, afraid to put it in her bag before the maid, afraid to show it.
"Yes. I'm late too. Cyril's waiting. We're lunching out. My hat, Sutton, my veil, quickly!"