h might give Philip pleasure. The two objects of value in the tray
upon which her eyes first fell were the gold seal-ring with which Philip
had sealed his letters to her, and, lying next to it, his gold watch!
There was something almost human in the way the ring and watch spoke to
her from the past--in the way they appealed to her to rescue them from
the surroundings to which they had been abandoned. She did not know what
she meant to do with them nor how she could return them to Philip; but
there was no question of doubt in her manner as she swept with a rush
into the shop. There was no attempt, either, at bargaining in the way
in which she pointed out to the young woman behind the counter the
particular ring and watch she wanted. They had not been left as
collateral, the young woman said; they had been sold outright.

"Then any one can buy them?" Helen asked eagerly. "They are for sale to
the public--to any one?"

The young woman made note of the customer's eagerness, but with an
unmoved countenance.

"Yes, miss, they are for sale. The ring is four pounds and the watch
twenty-five."

"Twenty-nine pounds!" Helen gasped.

That was more money than she had in the world, but the fact did not
distress her, for she had a true artistic disregard for ready money, and
the absence of it had never disturbed her. But now it assumed a sudden
and alarming value. She had ten pounds in her purse and ten pounds at
her studio--these were just enough to pay for a quarter's rent and the
rates, and there was a hat and cloak in Bond Street which she certainly
must have. Her only assets consisted of the possibility that some one
might soon order a miniature, and to her mind that was sufficient. Some
one always had ordered a miniature, and there was no reasonable doubt
but that some one would do it again. For a moment she questioned if it
would not be sufficient if she bought the ring and allowed the watch
to remain. But she recognized that the ring meant more to her than the
watch, while the latter, as an old heirloom which had been passed down
to him from a great-grandfather, meant more to Philip. It was for
Philip she was doing this, she reminded herself. She stood holding his
possessions, one in each hand, and looking at the young woman blankly.
She had no doubt in her mind that at least part of the money he had
received for them had paid for the flowers he had sent to her in
Scotland. The certainty of this left her no choice. She