He was absolute adamant. "As a clergyman," he answered, "I feel
I cannot do it."
"Will _you_ try, Mrs. Brabazon?" I asked.
The pretty little Scotchwoman leant over and whispered. She coaxed
and cajoled him. Her ways were winsome. I couldn't hear what she
said, but he seemed to give way at last. "I should love Lady
Vandrift to have them," she murmured, turning to me. "She _is_ such
a dear!" And she took out the links from her husband's cuffs and
handed them across to me.
"How much?" I asked.
"Two thousand?" she answered, interrogatively. It was a big rise,
all at once; but such are the ways of women.
"Done!" I replied. "Do you consent?"
The curate looked up as if ashamed of himself.
"I consent," he said slowly, "since Jessie wishes it. But as a
clergyman, and to prevent any future misunderstanding, I should
like you to give me a statement in writing that you buy them on my
distinct and positive declaration that they are made of paste--old
Oriental paste--not genuine stones, and that I do not claim any
other qualities for them."
I popped the gems into my purse, well pleased.
"Certainly," I said, pulling out a paper. Charles, with his
unerring business instinct, had anticipated the request, and given
me a signed agreement to that effect.
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