(Reading time: 4 - 7 minutes)
The Priceless Pearl
The Priceless Pearl

night what's his name--who had that crooked wheel in Hester Street--was pulled. Off the force?"

  

The two men shook hands.

  

"Gordon," said Edna, again determined to know the worst, "what do you want?"

  

"Why, oddly enough--nothing at all," replied Mr. Conway.

  

He did not give the same impression of furtiveness and wasted pallor that Pearl had gained when she had caught a glimpse of him on the steps. No one could say he had a color, but he was distinctly less corpselike. There was nothing shabby about him now either. He was very well dressed in a dark morning suit; his boots, his tie, the wrist watch which he kept glancing at as if his time was rather short, were all of the most elegant sort.

  

"No, my dear," he went on, "you ought to welcome me most cordially, for I have come to make you a present--quite a present." And fishing languidly in his pocket he produced the string of pearls.

  

"A present!" cried Edna. "Those are my pearls!"

  

"They are now," said her husband politely, "because I have made up my mind to give them to you."

  

"You gave them to me originally--they were always mine."

  

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