"It is yours."
She opened it daintily.
"Oh, C. Bailey, Junior!" she said very gently. "You mustn't do this!"
"Why?"
"It's too beautiful. Isn't it?"
"Nonsense, Athalie. Here, I'll wind it and set it for you. This is how it works—" pulling out the jewelled lever and setting it by the tin alarm-clock on the mantel. Then he wound it, unclasped the woven gold wrist-band, took her reluctant hand, and, clasping the jewel over her wrist, snapped the catch.
For a few moments her fair head remained bent as she gazed in silence at the tiny moving hands. Then, looking up:
"Thank you, C. Bailey, Junior," she said, a little solemnly perhaps.
He laughed, somewhat conscious of the slight constraint: "You're welcome, Athalie. Do you really like it?"
"It is wonderfully beautiful."