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“It’s a hopeless sort of story, but the ins and outs would take too long to tell,” he said. “Would you care to see the pendant? Of course, I might be an impostor, but if I had been I’d have told a better story.”

“Yes,” said Attwood absently, “I give you credit for that.”

Tony smiled. “I want to get married as soon as possible, because Pamela doesn’t know anyone here, even the lady she’s with isn’t a great friend. So as soon as I can get you another driver I’d like to go.”

“Have you the pendant there?”

Tony produced it. “What do you think it’s worth?”

“It looks very good, but I don’t know very much about that sort of thing. I can get it valued to-morrow—or tonight, if you like. It’s not six yet, is it? The shops won’t be closed. We’ll go down to Knowles, he’ll give a fair opinion.”

“Thanks.” Their eyes met and both smiled, Tony rather relieved. “I’ll bring the car round,” he said, and walked away quickly, thanking all his gods that the first explanation was over. He hated discussing his private affairs as soon as they involved Pamela. He had had no such feeling earlier in life, except when he disliked people, a state of things that always made him uncommunicative.

Next day he met Pamela in a most cheerful mood. “Attwood was a brick, darling. He didn’t want a lot of explanation; he lent me eighty pounds on your pendant (what a pleasing godmother you have!), and he let me off all this morning———”

“He would have been rather horrid if he hadn’t done that, when we’re only just engaged.”

“Ungrateful little pig! Why should he put himself out for us?”

“I’m not ungrateful really. I know it’s awfully nice of him to—to do everything; but we haven’t seen each other