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 be found!" she ejaculated, sharply. "It must! You see"—and she floundered into her explanations—"I know more about that pin than you can guess. I know that Mr. Valdeck gave it to you; I'll tell you all. Of course, you couldn't very well tell me before everybody at the tea; I understood that perfectly. I admired the quick way you turned it off, and I ought to have had more tact than to blurt out such a question—but that's just like me."

Philippa played amazement. "Why, Vic, what are you talking about? Are you insane?"

"I'm going to tell you the whole story," Victoria went on, disregarding the interruption, "and let you judge for yourself."

Philippa's thoughts during the recital were a series of repressed exclamations. "Heavens! she's accusing him of burglary! Did one ever hear of such vindictiveness! Lucius was right; she's a danger in petticoats! What a horrible lie! Oh! it's murder now! What next, I wonder! The wickedness of it! She's overstepping herself; nobody will believe that. Can such women live, to play with a man's life and character like that? 166