It was all Trudy could do not to offer to play the confidential bosom friend and urge Mary to show Beatrice where she stood. But somehow the brisk business atmosphere, which was very real and brusque, prevented her from saying anything except that she had wanted to talk to her. She was lonesome--she was going to come some evening and have a good, old-time visit. "Of course--just let me know when." "Oh"--archly--"are you busy on certain evenings?" "Sometimes. French lessons; theatre; general odd jobs." "No particular caller?" "No," Mary laughed. "I thought perhaps--you know, one time I came in and----" "You came one time and found Mr. O'Valley," Mary hastened to add. "Yes, I remember, but that was an unusual occurrence. He came in on business and when he discovered I did not object to a pipe--he stayed." Trudy was disappointed. "Did Beatrice ever know?" "Don't know myself." Mary was determined to win out. "I can't see why she should--it would not interest her. She never listens to things that do not interest her.... You won't know Luke. He grows like a weed." Trudy found herself dismissed. She did not know just how it had come about but Mary was smiling her into the elevator and Trudy was sinking to the ground floor feeling that though it was none of her business unless she got a diamond ring she was just going to make other people unhappy, too. Why this conclusion was reached was not at all clear to Trudy any more than to the rest of the world. But after all, it is only fair to leave something for the psychologists to debate about. At all events, it was the definite conclusion at which she arrived. She could not resist paying a fleeting return visit to the largest of the jewellery stores. After which she told herself that it was little short of going without shoes or stockings through the streets to have been married the length of time she had been married and to possess not a single diamond. Returning home for a canned luncheon she discovered Gaylord humming a love song and strumming on his ukulele. "I say, old dear," he began, "I have had the greatest luck! I call it nothing short of a fairy tale." He pointed at his neckscarf. Coming near, Trudy bent over and gave way to a shrill scream. A handsome diamond pin reposed in the old-rose silk. "Where--where did you get it?" she managed to articulate. "Beatrice really--the result of the raffle for the children's charity. You remember we took tickets? She donated this scarfpin, and this morning Jill Briggs came in and presented the trophy. My number was the winning one: 56." "She made you win it. You know she did, you toadying little abomination! You fairly lick her boots--and she has to tip you occasionally. And you sit there wearing that pin and never offering to have it set in a pin for me. You dare to keep it--you dare?" She lost her self-control.