“M’m! Been ‘out’ some time, I take it.”
“F-four weeks.” Sallie found it impossible to talk these days without a quiver. And the wells that had been her eyes were wept dry.
“When does he return, my deah?”
“Oh s-soon now, I g-guess.”
“H’m!” Merciless blue eyes took in the small white face, listless shoulders and drooping mouth, while their owner hummed low and languorously, “When I Come Back to You.” After which she proceeded: “And the cobbles, my deah?”
“What?”
“Pearls! The dog collar?”
“Oh! I—I p-put it away.”
“Ah?”
“I—it—I thought I’d better not wear it round all the time.”