not
worth the effort, Trudy had once proclaimed, but to run the gauntlet
of real rough-house emotion in a jewellery store frequented by his
clientele would be social suicide. The only thing was to make Beatrice
pay a larger commission on the things for her new tea house so that he
could pay for this red-haired vixen's ring. But this would not in the
least dim the red-haired vixen's triumph, which was the issue at
stake. From that moment he began really to hate Trudy.

To her amazement he greeted her in honeyed tones, approved the ring,
and suggested that the wedding ring be turned in for old gold and
replaced by a modern creation and so on, produced a deposit, and
walked out with Trudy, who wore the new symbol of triumph on her
finger, proposing that they lunch downtown. He was determined to carry
it through without a moment's faltering.

Even Trudy was nonplussed. Once the treasure was secure in her
possession she told herself it had been so easy that she was a fool
not to have tried it before--she even complimented Gay on his
scarfpin. But she began hating him also. No one would have suspected
it, to watch these diamond-adorned young people guzzling crab-meat
cocktails and planning fiercer raids on Beatrice O'Valley's
pocketbook.

Moreover, Trudy did not change in her decision to make someone
unhappy. She found that possessing a diamond ring did not remove her
discontent--and a shamed feeling stole over her, causing her to wonder
how loudly she had screamed at Gay and how she must have looked when
she started to strike him in her blind rage; how horrible it was to go
off on tangents just because you wanted rings on your fingers and
bells on your toes when all the time the world did contain such
persons as Mary Faithful, who did not choose to claim a paradise which
longed to be claimed.

Trudy was unable to keep her fingers out of the pie. She found herself
naturally gravitating over to see Beatrice. Ostensibly she wanted to
display her new ring and talk about Gay's luck and the daring gypsy
embroideries he had just received from New York but really to tell her
Steve O'Valley, supposedly enslaved cave man, loved another and a
plainer woman than her own gorgeous self.

She found Beatrice in a neglige of delicately embroidered chiffon with
luxurious black-satin flowers as a corsage. She had seldom seen her
look as lovely; even the too-abundant curves of flesh were concealed
behind the lace draperies. She seemed th