He expected to see the familiar blush stealing up over the whiteness of her face and neck. But she remained, though deeply interested, quite cool and calm. Presently she dropped her hands in her lap and drew a long breath. "There is a lady over there," she said in a whisper, "who has something round her arm so bright that I think it must be diamonds. Do you see who I mean? When she holds up her glasses again, tell me if they are real diamonds in her bracelet." Much amused, Mr. Kingston did as he was bidden. "Oh, yes," he said, "they are real diamonds. That lady is particularly addicted to precious stones. She walks about the street in broad day with a Sunday school in each ear, as that fellow in _Piccadilly_ says. Are you like the majority of your sex--a worshipper of diamonds? I thought you did not care for jewellery." "I do," she replied, smiling. "I don't worship jewels, but I should like to have some. I should like to have some real diamonds _very_ much." "I daresay you will have plenty some day, and very becoming they'll be to you. Not more so, though, than the flowers you are wearing to-night," he added, looking at them admiringly. Rachel touched up her ornaments with a thoughtful face. "There is such a light about diamonds," she said musingly; "no coloured stones seem so liquid and twinkling. I don't care in the least about coloured stones. If I were very rich I would have one ring full of diamonds, to wear every day, and one necklace to wear at night--a necklace of diamond stars strung together--and perhaps a diamond bracelet. And I wouldn't care for anything else." "Should you like to be very rich?" asked her companion, smiling to himself over these naïve confessions. He was gazing, not only into her eyes, but at her lovely throat and arms, and imagining how they would look with diamonds on them. "Yes," said Rachel. "But the great thing I wish is not to be poor. I hope--oh, I do hope--I shall never be poor any more!" "I don't think you stand in the least danger of that," said Mr. Kingston. "I know all about it," continued the girl gravely; "and I don't think you do, or you could not laugh or make a joke of it. You _cannot_ know how much it means. _You_ never have debts, of course." "Debts? Oh, dear, yes, I do--plenty." "Yes, but I mean debts that you can't pay--that you have to apologise for--that hang and drag about you always. I won't talk about it," she added hurriedly, with a little shiver; "it will spoil my pleasure to-night." "_Don't_," said Mr. Kingston. He did not find it a congenial topic either. "Tell me what you would do if you were rich."