uld put the sapphire. The little buttoned
pocket of her bath-robe. There it hung in the bath-room on one unvarying
peg, the most immovable of all her garments, safe from the excursions of
Marrika's needle or brushes, not to be disturbed for hours to come.

She passed through her bedroom, through her dressing-room into the
bath-room. The robe was hanging behind the door. It took her a moment to
draw out the ring and disentangle its chain, and while she was doing
this she became aware of movings to and fro in her bedroom. She drew the
door half open, the better to conceal herself behind it, and at the same
time, through the widened crack of the jamb, to keep an eye on the
dressing-room, and hurried lest Marrika should surprise her. But
nevertheless she had barely slipped the ring into the little pocket and
refastened the flap, when Clara opened the bedroom door and stood
looking into the dressing-room.

Flora experienced a sharp start of surprise, and then of wonder. Here
was Clara again seeking her out! Here she stood, brushed and polished,
and finished to a pitch of virtue, again taking Flora at a disadvantage,
hiding behind her own door. But at the least she was grateful that Clara
had not seen her. She stood a minute collecting herself. She wasn't
doing anything she need be ashamed of, or that she need explain, or that
need even awaken suspicion. But before she could take her courage in
both hands and come out of her retreat, Clara had reached the middle of
the dressing-room, and stood still.

Her lifted veil made a fine mist above the luster of her eyes. She was
perfect to the tips of her immaculate white gloves, and she wore the
simple, sober look of a person who thinks himself alone. Then it wasn't
Flora, Clara was looking for! She was looking all around--over the
surface of every object in the room. Presently she went up to the
dressing-table. She laid her gloved hands upon it, and looked at the
small objects strewn over its top. She took a step backward and opened
the top drawer. She reached into it, and delicately explored.

Flora could see the white gloves going to and fro among her white
handkerchiefs, could see them find, open and examine the contents of her
jewel-box. And the only thing that kept her from shrieking out was the
feeling that this abominable thing which was being enacted before her
eyes couldn't be a fact at all.

Clara took out an old pocket-book, shiny with years, shook from it a
shower