Mrs.Wintermill's pearls had cost sixty-five thousand dollars.
Sixty-five thousand dollars! She could not resist the impulse to shoot a swift, startled look out of the corners of her eyes at the silent old man beside her.

That was a lot of money! And it was money that he was under no obligation to expend upon her.

It was quite outside the contract.

She was puzzled.

Why this uncalled for generosity?
A queer, sickening doubt assailed her.
"Are--are these pearls really and truly to be mine ?" she asked.