"What are you talking about?
Do you think it was given to you to look at and then return?
Why shouldn't you keep it?
It's got your name on.

He can't give it to anybody else, unless there's more than one Sally down his alley, which I should think is very doubtful.

What do you mean--you can't keep it?
You make me feel like Job's wife." Sally unclasped the bangle and laid it back in the little velvet box with lingering fingers.

Then she picked up the letter.
"Read that," she said.
Janet swept her eyes to it.

To her, as she read, it seemed to be the condensation of more than one letter that had been written before.
A man, she argued, who gives such a present, is more than probably in love; and a man who is in love, cannot write so directly to the point in his first attempt.
This was the letter:-- "DEAR MISS BISHOP--" (To call her "Sally" in diamonds and "Miss Bishop" in ink, was ridiculous.