"Well," said Alfred Whittaker, and his face wore a curious little smile, "yes--it's jewelry. I came by it in an odd fashion. I had some business up west this morning, a very unexpected bit of business; it took me right out of my regular track. I was going along a little street at the back of Manchester Square and I saw something in a little shop that attracted my attention. It was a quaint little shop, half jeweler's and half curiosity dealer's." "And you stopped and bought it?" "Not at all; I stopped and looked at it. It was a tea-service of that scale blue Worcester which fetches such tremendous prices at Christie's, only I don't think that particular set will ever have a show at Christie's, handsome as it is, and while I was looking at it I noticed this. I haven't seen such a thing for ages, and I've never seen anything like it at the price before, so I bought it and paid for it, and here it is." He took a little parcel from his pocket wrapped in tissue paper, and pushed it along the table to Julia. "Give that to your mother. No, I did not buy anything for you." "Then you did not go to Templeton's for it?" said Regina, as her fingers closed over the little parcel. "Templeton's? Oh, no, this is not modern; it is an antique. The people haven't the faintest idea of its value; it is worth ten times what I gave for it. It happened to be one of the things in which I am interested and which I understand. No, when I want jewels, I go to Templeton's. I don't understand gems and I can trust them." "And their discretion?" said Regina. "Yes, if it were necessary I would trust their discretion too. Now, what do you think of that?" Regina opened the parcel with fingers which visibly trembled. He had bought her a present; his mind, at the moment of looking into that little shop, half jeweler's, half curiosity shop, on seeing something in which he was personally interested, had instantly flown to her. He might have given a bracelet to a hussy, but his interest had remained with Regina. CHAPTER XIX BROKEN-HEARTED MIRANDA When we are in trouble we often take means to comfort ourselves that we should utterly despise in others. Mrs. Whittaker in no way faltered in her resolve to win back Alfred to his old allegiance. The dinner was excellent. "A very good bit of salmon," said Alfred, looking inquiringly at his wife as he held the fish server and fork suggestively toward the dish; "you will have a bit more, dearest?" "A little bit more," said Regina. In spite of the blow which had fallen upon her she was honestly and genuinely hungry. To a woman who lives well and eats her three meals a day, to say nothing of a very good tea thrown in, the loss of a meal is a very serious matter. Muffins, though consoling, are not possessed of much staying power, and Regina was, in spite of being so upset, genuinely famished.