He indicated, sternly, a solitaire that looked, he thought, about like Martha's.
'How much is that?'
'That? Not a bad stone. Let me see... Oh, three hundred dollars.'
Henry, huskily, in a dazed hush of the spirit, repeated the words:—
'Three—hundred—dollars!'
The salesman tapped with manicured fingers on the showcase.
'Have you—have you—have you...
The salesman raised his eyebrows.
'... any others?'
'Oh, yes, we have others.' He drew out a tray from the wall behind him. 'I can show fairly good stones as low as sixty or eighty dollars. Here's one that's really very good at a hundred.'