Americans -- Europe -- Fiction; Europe -- Fiction; Love stories; Marriage -- Fiction; Married people -- Fiction; Socialites -- Fiction
Now, in the quiet of her own room, Susy lay and pondered on the distance
she had travelled during the last year. Strefford had read her mind with
his usual penetration. It was true that there had been a time when
she would have thought it perfectly natural that Ellie should tell
her everything; that the name of young Davenant’s successor should be
confided to her as a matter of course. Apparently even Ellie had been
obscurely aware of the change, for after a first attempt to force her
confidences on Susy she had contented herself with vague expressions of
gratitude, allusive smiles and sighs, and the pretty “surprise” of the
sapphire bangle slipped onto her friend’s wrist in the act of their
farewell embrace.
The bangle was extremely handsome. Susy, who had an auctioneer’s eye
for values, knew to a fraction the worth of those deep convex stones
alternating with small emeralds and brilliants. She was glad to own the
bracelet, and enchanted with the effect it produced on her slim wrist;
yet, even while admiring it, and rejoicing that it was hers, she had
already transmuted it into specie, and reckoned just how far it would go
toward the paying of domestic necessities. For whatever came to her now
interested her only as something more to be offered up to Nick.
The door opened and Nick came in. Dusk had fallen, and she could not
see his face; but something in the jerk of the door-handle roused her
ever-wakeful apprehension. She hurried toward him with outstretched
wrist.
“Look, dearest--wasn’t it too darling of Ellie?”
She pressed the button of the lamp that lit her dressing-table, and her
husband’s face started unfamiliarly out of the twilight. She slipped off
the bracelet and held it up to him.
“Oh, I can go you one better,” he said with a laugh; and pulling a
morocco case from his pocket he flung it down among the scent-bottles.
Susy opened the case automatically, staring at the pearl because she was
afraid to look again at Nick.
“Ellie--gave you this?” she asked at length.
“Yes. She gave me this.” There was a pause. “Would you mind telling
me,” Lansing continued in the same dead-level tone, “exactly for what
services we’ve both been so handsomely paid?”
“The pearl is beautiful,” Susy murmured, to gain time, while her head
spun round with unimaginable terrors.
“So are your sapphires; though, on closer examination, my services would
appear to have been valued rather higher than yours. Would you be kind
enough to tell me just what they were?”
Susy threw her head back and looked at him. “What on earth are you
talking about, Nick! Why shouldn’t Ellie have given us these things? Do
you forget that it’s like our giving her a pen-wiper or a button-hook?
What is it you are trying to suggest?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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