"Of course, my dear boy," she said. "I shouldn't dream of saying a word--till you've thought twice. But you must think quick, Jeff. I can't wait forever." "I swear," said Jeff, "you are--" Neither words nor breath failed him, but he was afraid of his own passion. Madame Beattie laughed. "Jeff," said she, "I've no visible means of support. If I had I should be as mild--you can't think!" He turned and, without a look at Esther, strode out of the room. Esther hardly waited for the door to close behind him before she fell upon Madame Beattie. "Who did it?" she cried. "That woman?" Madame Beattie was exploring a little box for a tablet, which she took composedly. "What woman?" she asked. "That woman upstairs." "Rhoda Knox? God bless me, no! Rhoda Knox wouldn't steal a button. She's New England to the bone." "Sophy?" "Esther, you're a fool. Why don't you let me manage Jeff in my own way? You won't manage him yourself." She got up with a clashing of little chains and yawned broadly. "Don't forget Alston Choate sitting in the dining-room waiting like a messenger boy." "In the dining-room?" "Yes. Did you think he'd go? He's waiting there to hear Jeff assault you, and come to the rescue. You told him you were afraid." She was on her way to the door, but she turned. "I may as well take this," she said idly, and swept the necklace into her hand. She held it up and shook it in the light, and Esther's eyes, as she knew they would, dwelt on it with a hungry passion. "You are taking it away," said Esther. "You've no right to. He said he had paid you money on it when it was lost. If he did, it belongs to him. And I'm his wife." "I might as well take it with me," said Madame Beattie. "You don't act as if you were his wife." A quick madness shot into Esther's brain and overwhelmed it, anger, or fright, she could not tell what. She did not cry out because she knew Alston Choate was in the next room, but she spoke sobbingly: "He did take it out of my bag. You have planned it between you to get it back into your hands." Madame Beattie laughed pleasantly and went upstairs. And Esther crossed the little hall and stood in the dining-room door looking at Alston Choate. As she looked, her heart rose, for she saw conquest easy, in his bowed head, his frowning glance. He had not wanted to stay, his attitude told her; he was even yet raging against staying. But he could not leave her. Passion in him was fighting side by side with feminine implacability in her against the better part of him. She went forward and stood before him droopingly, a most engaging picture of the purely feminine. But he did not look at her, and she had to throw what argument she might into her voice. "You were so good to stay," she said, with a little tired sigh. "They've gone. Come back into the other room."