"May I?"

"You may, and must. There--and there--and there. Oh dear, what nice
things good luck and happiness are, and how sweet to bring them for
once."

Upon this Phoebe and she had a nice little cry together, and Mrs.
Staines went off refreshed thereby, and as gay as a lark, pointing slyly
at the door, and making faces to Phoebe that she knew he was there, and
she only retired, out of her admirable discretion, that they might enjoy
the diamond together.

When she was gone, Reginald, whose eye and ear had been at the keyhole,
alternately gloating on the face and drinking the accents of the only
woman he had ever really loved, came out, looking pale, and strangely
disturbed; and sat down at table, without a word.

Phoebe came back to him, full of the diamond. "Did you hear what she
said, my dear? It is a diamond; it is worth a hundred and fifty pounds
at least. Why, what ails you? Ah! to be sure! you know that lady."

"I have cause to know her. Cursed jilt!"

"You seem a good deal put out at the sight of her."

"It took me by surprise, that is all."

"It takes me by surprise too. I thought you were cured. I thought MY
turn had come at last."