"Thanks; I'll wait here," Walter answered. In reality he would have preferred to go and have a cigar with Chase. But as he had not seen his partner's wife since she returned from Europe, it was only courtesy as well as good policy to remain where he was. For Mrs. Chase was a power. She was a power because her husband would always wish to please her; this desire would come next to his money-making, and would even, in Walter's opinion (in case there should ever be a contest between the two influences), "run in close!" Mrs. Kip had hastily divested herself of the jewels, and replaced them on Ruth's wrist and hands, with many caressing touches. "Aren't they _lovely_?" she said to Walter. "That little one, the guard, was _my_ selection," he replied, indicating the philopena circlet. "And not this also?" said Ruth, touching her engagement ring. "No; that was my uncle Richard's choice; Chase wrote to _him_ the second time, not to me," Walter answered. "I'm afraid he didn't like my taste." He laughed; then turned to another subject. "You were playing the guitar when I came in, Mrs. Chase; won't you sing something?" "I neither play nor sing in a civilized way," Ruth answered. "None of us do. In music we are all awful barbarians." "How can you say so," protested Mrs. Kip, "when, as a family, you are _so_ musical?" Then, summoning to her eyes an expression of great intelligence, she added: "And I should know that you were, all of you, from your thick eyebrows and very thick hair. You have heard of that theory, haven't you, Mr. Willoughby? That all true musicians have very thick hair?" "Also murderers; I mean the women--the murderesses," remarked Dolly. "Oh, Dolly, what ideas you do have! Who would ever think of associating murderesses with music? Music is _so_ uplifting," protested the rosy widow.