She opened the case with a click. It contained a very handsome pendant with pearl drop and a big ruby in the centre.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” said Jack complacently. “The ruby was my own idea—her name—d’yer see?”
“Quite subtle,” said Claudia gravely; “but I daresay, if you explain it, she’ll see the point.”
“Eh? Oh, well! they like a little present occasionally. And if you saw her pleasure at anything you give her—well, you feel you want to go and buy her the whole shopfull at once.”
“H’m. I think I was wrong in suggesting she was not clever. Let’s go down to breakfast, Jacky.”
“You see,” said Jack confidentially, as they went down the stairs, “a fellow likes to be appreciated. You remember that, my dear, now you are going to be married. Don’t have any moods, and always be appreciative and bright. That does the trick every time. Take my advice.”
“Thank you. I’ll be sure and remember. Appreciative and bright. I might have it framed.”
“Don’t you fancy I don’t know anything about women. You’re a nut, Claudia, I admire you no end, but really you make too great demands on a chap. Come on, I could eat a tin can this morning.”
Later that day Claudia was lying very comfortably in a big wicker chair under an old elm-tree at Holme Court, when Gilbert arrived. He looked noticeably tired and fagged, for the week had been a very hot one, and he had been hard at it. He did not specially remark the pretty picture she made in her cool white linen against the green background, but he appreciated the shade of the elm. His chambers were abominably stuffy.
“Poor boy!” said Claudia softly. “You’re tired, I can see. I’ll be soothing. You don’t want me to tell funny stories, do you?”