"A woman gave it to me."
"What was her name?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know the name of a woman who gave you a costly trinket of this kind?"
A ridiculous look of vanity appeared in his eyes.
"Is it very valuable?" he inquired.
"It may be worth as much as £50," I answered quietly.
"Really!" said he, with something approaching geniality in his tones. "Well, it's an extraordinary thing, but I assure you I don't know her name."
"Of course," I said, with Machiavellian cunning, "I don't expect you to remember the name of every girl who has loved you, but this is an unusual present to receive even from an infatuated woman."
"It's an extraordinary thing, isn't it?" repeated Edward Hines, full of self-esteem. "I can't make out the women at all; they're always giving me presents. Look at that picture-frame. I got that from a girl I had only seen three times—and it's solid silver," he added.