In the next breath she pounced upon him again. “Victoria had pawned the necklace, of course. Did you redeem it for her?” “Yes,” he admitted sulkily, “I did.” “How much did it cost you?” she asked. He told her, “Twenty-five thousand dollars.” “That was very handsome of you,” she observed, not satirically, but quite as if she meant it. He started to tell her he’d been glad to do it, but before the words were half uttered, she’d turned to Victoria. “Did you tell Judy,” she asked, “that you had come down on her fiancé for the money?” “No,” Victoria answered, “of course not.” The gathering cloud of the old woman’s anger was a positively appalling thing to watch. “Then,” she said at last, turning back to Bruce, “you must have told her yourself.” You couldn’t deny the possession of a certain stiff sort of courage to that young man. He stood up to her. “Yes,” he said, “I told her. She’d met me at the train with the information that she’d planned to jilt me for that worthless cousin of mine. I’d engaged myself in good faith to marry her. I’d come out here with my friends and my family to do it. And then, here on the day before the wedding, she wanted to cry off. “I’d advanced a substantial sum of money to her mother on the supposition that the wedding was to take place. I thought it was only fair she should know it. She took the same view of it that I did, and agreed to marry me. I didn’t suggest--it would have been unthinkable, of course--that I take the necklace as an alternative.” “The necklace wasn’t hers at that time to offer as an alternative,” Mrs. Corbin pointed out. “I hadn’t given it to her then. When I did, she gave it to you--by word of mouth, or did she put it in writing?” “She left a note last night,” Bruce told her, “in which she said that I might keep the pearls. But apparently my cousin didn’t agree to that disposal of them.” “And, that being the case, you’re willing to marry my granddaughter?” The biting irony in her voice could not be ignored, but he answered stiffly, “Yes, I am. But I think your insinuation is outrageously unfair. You seem to be trying to make it appear that I’m to blame for all this. I’ve come out here to keep my part of a bargain, and all I’m asking, as a matter of simple justice, is that your granddaughter shall keep hers. I haven’t deceived anybody nor lied to anybody, nor tried to take unfair advantage of anybody. It seems to me that the shoe is on the other foot.” “You needn’t worry about simple justice,” said the old woman grimly. “You’re going to get it. When you told that child that you’d redeemed the necklace for her mother you practically told her you’d bought her. But I’m not willing to let her go at that price. She’s worth more than you paid, just as the necklace is. You shall have your money back as soon as I can write you a check.”