night. It was late afternoon of the day on which he
had bought the necklace. The small package still
rested in his pocket. It had been his intention to
give the pearls to Meta Beggs before he returned to
his home, but no opportunity had offered. After
school she had passed the seated row of men, uneasily
stirring their hats in response to her collected greeting;
and, with Mrs. Peterman, gone into the body of
the hotel. Gordon could not follow her. Anyhow,
the presentation could be made with better effect in
the obscurity of the maples tomorrow night...
her gratitude could have fuller sweep.

He made his way finally, reluctantly, home.
There, alone in the bedroom, he swiftly withdrew
the necklace from its pasteboard box, and dropped
it into the pocket of a coat hanging in the curtained
wardrobe. It was, he noted, the checked suit with
the red thread, the one he would wear to the sap-boiling.
He heard approaching footsteps, and,
hastily crumpling the paper and small box into a
compact unit, he flung it into a corner of the wardrobe,
behind a heap of linen.

[[242]]

p241 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p242w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p243

v?