MAMIE (rising—alarmed). Jack. It isn’t lost?
JOHN (pressing her gently into chair). Sit down. Sit down and don’t worry. It can’t be lost. If it is, I’ll buy you another, that’s all.
MAMIE. Five—hundred—pounds!
JOHN. Yes. I can’t forget that! But it’s a mere flea-bite to me.
MAMIE. Jack, you don’t understand, the Rajah looks on it as an heirloom—he wouldn’t part with it for the world—that’s why I wanted to wear it—it was such a cute idea. But I promised faithfully to return it to the Rajah to-day.
JOHN. Can’t you make some excuse?
MAMIE. How can I? Have you been to the Club?
JOHN. No, I can’t possibly go down there for a day or two—for a particular reason.
MAMIE. Oh, I do hope it isn’t lost. Can’t you ’phone?
JOHN. Oh, yes. I did ’phone, but the club ’phone seems to be out of order.