Miss Peters nodded listlessly.
“Toodle-doo,” she murmured.
“As a coryphée, I suppose her diamonds are a sight?”
“A sight!” Mrs. Sixsmith closed her eyes. “They’re all laid up in lavender, I fear.”
“In lavender?”
“Pledged.”
“Oh, poor soul.”
“Just now you spoke of a necklace of your own ... a pearl rope, or something, that you wish to sell.”
“Unhappily I’m obliged.”
“I’ve a notion I might be of service in the matter.”