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Updated: May 1, 2025
"It's all about a ring," she began, and enjoyed poor Tweddle's evident discomfort. "A ring?" cried Bella, waking up. "Don't keep all the fun to yourselves; we've not had so much of it this evening." "Miss Ada," said Leander, in great agitation, "I ask you, as a lady, to treat what has happened this evening in the strictest confidence for the present!"
Before Leander could recover from the alarm he had been thrown into, another customer had entered; a pale young man, with a glossy hat, a white satin necktie, and a rather decayed gardenia. He, too, was one of Tweddle's regular clients. What his occupation might be was a mystery, for he aimed at being considered a man of pleasure.
"I've got it!" he cried, and went downstairs to his laboratory, to reappear with some camel-hair brushes, grease-paints, and a selection from his less important discoveries in the science of cosmetics; namely, an "eyebrow accentuator," a vase of "Tweddle's Cream of Carnations" and "Blondinette Bloom," a china box of "Conserve of Coral" for the lips, and one of his most expensive chevelures.
This other woman had supplanted her; but she should be made to feel the wrong she had done, and her triumphs should be tempered with shame, if she were capable of such a sensation. Matilda knew very well that the ring was not hers, and she wanted it no longer; but, then, it was Miss Tweddle's, and she would claim it in her name.
That lady sitting there on the sofa is Mrs. Collum, and this gentleman is a friend of your gentleman's, and my nephew, Leandy." "Oh, thank you," said Bella, "but I've no occasion to be told Mr. Tweddle's name; we have met before haven't we, Mr. Tweddle?" He looked at her, and saw her brows clouded, and her nose and mouth with a pinched look about them. She was annoyed with him evidently but why?
"You wouldn't wish to deceive me, I hope," said Matilda; "and oh, Miss Parkinson, you might be open with me, for I'm so very miserable! I don't know what to think. Tell me just this: did you wasn't it you who came last night to Miss Tweddle's?" "No!" returned Ada, impatiently "no, as many times as you please! And if Bella likes to say I did, she may; and she always was a mischief-making thing!
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