“Given it away? You foolish girl!” The Countess ceased playing, whilst a look of astonishment crossed her face. “You don’t mean to say it was the diamond spray you always wear?”
“Yes; the one father gave me after I was ill two years ago. I gave it to the Unemployed.”
“Patricia! Are you mad? Please explain yourself.”
Patricia blushed. “There is not much to explain,” she rejoined. “Lionel and I happened to come across the procession of the Unemployed—perhaps you have seen it yourself? Yes? Then you know how it makes one’s blood run cold to see the misery on their faces. I had only a little money to put in the collecting-box, so I gave my brooch. If they can sell it, it will do them more good than myself.”
“Preposterous!” the Countess exclaimed. “Why, it was worth at least two hundred pounds.”
“So much the better; even if they get only a hundred, it will go towards buying bread. And I shall not even miss it—I have so many trinkets.”
Her cousin shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, I won’t say any more,” she said. “You always were one of the most absurdly quixotic creatures of my acquaintance. I should not be at all surprised if you ended by beggaring yourself.”
“In that case, I shall appeal to you for assistance,” Patricia answered, with a smile. “But do not let us talk about myself. Tell me your great secret, Mamie.”
“Presently. There is plenty of time.”