She lifted her eyes a little wearily: "I don't know," she said.
"I do," he chuckled. "He was choosing a collar of blue diamonds and aqua marines!--Te-he!--probably to wear himself!--Te-he! Or perhaps he was going to be married!--He-he-he!--next winter--ahem!--next November--Ha-ha! I don't know, I'm sure, what he meant to do with that collar. I only--"
Something in Sylvia's eyes stopped him, and, following their direction, he turned around to find Quarrier standing at his elbow, icy and expressionless.
"Oh," said the aged jester, a little disconcerted, "I'm caught talking out in church, I see! It was only a harmless little fun, Howard."
"Do you mean you saw me?" asked Quarrier, pale as a sheet. "You are in error. I have not been in Tiffany's in months."
Belwether, crestfallen under the white menace of Quarrier's face, nodded, and essayed a chuckle without success.
Sylvia, at first listless and uninterested, looked inquiringly from the major to Quarrier, surprised at the suppressed feeling exhibited over so trivial a gaucherie. If Quarrier had chosen a collar like Agatha's for her, what of it? But as he had not, on his own statement, what did it matter? Why should he look that way at the foolish major, to whose garrulous gossip he was accustomed, and whose inability to refrain from prying was notorious enough.
Turning disdainfully, she caught a glimpse of Plank's shocked and altered face. It relapsed instantly into the usual inert expression; and a queer, uncomfortable perplexity began to invade her. What had happened to stir up these three men? Of what importance was an indiscretion of an old gentleman whose fatuous vanity and consequent blunders everybody was familiar with? And, after all, Howard had not bought anything at Tiffany's; he said so himself. … But it was evident that Agatha had chanced on the collar that Belwether thought he saw somebody else examining.
She turned, and looked at the dead-white neck of the girl. The collar was wonderful--a miracle of pale fire. And Sylvia, musing, let her thoughts run on, dreamy eyes brooding. She was glad that Agatha's means permitted her now to have such things. It had been understood, for some years, that the Caithness fortune was in rather an alarming condition. Howard had been able recently to do a favour or two for old Peter Caithness. She had heard the major bragging about it. Evidently Mr. Caithness must have improved the chance, if he was able to present such gems to his daughter. And now somebody would marry her; perhaps Captain Voucher; perhaps even Alderdene; perhaps, as rumour had it now and then, Plank might venture into the arena. … Poor Plank! More of a man than people understood. She understood. She-And her thoughts swung back like the returning tide to Siward, and her heart began heavily again, and the slightly faint sensation returned. She passed her ungloved, unsteady fingers across her eyelids and forehead, looking up and around. The major and Howard had disappeared; Plank, beside her, sat staring stupidly into his empty wine-glass.