invest it, would have brought her in £55 a year, so he had told her in a
grave, disapproving tone.

In return she had told him, the colour rushing into her pretty face, that
after all she had the right to do what she chose with her legacy, the
more so that this thousand pounds was in a peculiar sense her own money,
as the woman who had left it her was her mother's sister, having nothing
to do either with her father or with the late George Bailey!

And so she had had her way--nay, more; Chester, at the very last, had
gone to great trouble in order that she might not be cheated over her
purchase. Best of all, Bill--Sylvia always called the serious-minded
young lawyer "Bill"--had lived to admit that Mrs. Bailey had made a good
investment after all, for her pearls had increased in value in the two
years she had had them.

Be that as it may, the young widow often reminded herself that nothing
she had ever bought, and nothing that had ever been given her, had caused
her such lasting pleasure as her beloved string of pearls!

But on this pleasant June afternoon, in deference to her determined
friend's advice, she took off her pearls before starting out for
Montmartre, leaving the case in the charge of M. Girard, the genial
proprietor of the Hôtel de l'Horloge.




CHAPTER II