Bingham burst into subdued laughter. "My wife sent me over with it," said Harding, who could not see anything amusing in the incident. "She said Lady Dashwood had got Mrs. Potten here. That's all right," and he gravely drew from his sleeve a piece of mauve paper, carefully rolled up, on which was stitched the collar in question. "Here's the money," said Gwen, holding out a folded paper. Harding took the paper. "Thirty shillings," said Gwen. "Is that right?" "Yes, thirty shillings," said Harding. "The price is marked on the paper." "Extraordinarily cheap at the price," remarked Bingham. "There is no other collar equal to it in Buckinghamshire." The Canon turned and walked off, wondering in his mind who the very pretty, smartly dressed girl was. Harding unfolded the paper. It was a pound note and inside was not one but two new ten-shilling notes--only stuck together. "You've given me too much, one pound and two tens," he said, and he separated the two notes and gave one back to Gwen. "You're a bit too generous, Miss Scott," he said. Gwen took the note, dimpling and smiling and Harding wrote "paid" in pencil on the mauve paper. "Here's your receipt," he said, handing her the paper, "the collar and all," and he turned away and went back to the sale room, with the money in his pocket. Meanwhile Gwendolen did not run, she walked back very deliberately. She had the collar in one hand and the ten-shilling note in the other. She heard the two men turn and walk towards the gate. The old gentleman with a gown on, by which she meant the Canon, had disappeared. The quadrangle was empty. Gwen was thinking, thinking.