The attendant laughed.  “We don’t do business that way.  But I guess I can promise to keep the bag till you come back, if you hurry.”

Nick did hurry, and visited three other shops within ten minutes, though they were at some distance from each other.  He found nothing to suit him.

“I’ll take that bag, if you can change the stones and put in sapphires instead of emeralds,” he announced, somewhat breathlessly, wiping his forehead.  “I know it will come dearer.  But I’m willing to pay.”

“When would you want it?” asked the shopman.

“To-morrow morning by ten o’clock at latest.”

“Oh, impossible!”

“I don’t know much about that word,” said Nick.  “We’ve cut it out of the dictionary up my way.  Offer your men what they want to do night work, and I guess they’ll name a price.”

After all, even in a smart jewellery shop they do not sell a gold bag every day; and a point was stretched to gratify the purchaser, who had a way which made people glad to please him.

He went back to his hotel, feeling guilty but happy.  “She’s going to have a gold bag, anyhow,” he thought.  “I don’t believe she’ll ever know the difference.”  And Nick began to rejoice that the old bag would never be found.  It would be splendid to know that she was using a thing he had given her.  If the other bag did turn up, the police would let him know.  That was arranged; and he would manage somehow.

“Only to think,” he said to himself, “a year ago I might have been as wild to do this deal as I am now, but I couldn’t have run to it.  This is the first real fun I’ve got out of my money.  Mighty good thing money is—­though I used not to know it mattered.  Dollars, even if I’d a million, could never put me in the same class with an angel.  But they give me a chance to travel with her, and that’ll be something to remember.”

For Nick had found the angel of his dreams, and had recognized her at first glance that day in the hall of the Valmont.  He would have known the angel by her eyes and hair, if nothing else had answered the description; but all the rest belonged to the same picture—­the picture of his ideal, the girl he had never expected to see in real life.  And it was all the more wonderful that her name should be Angel, or something near it.  He might not have learned that exquisite detail if she had not given him the diamond frame to hold as security.  And to be sure of his security he was keeping it in a pocket over his heart.  He knew that this was sentimental, but he did not care a red cent!  Indeed, he gloried in it.  Soon all would be over, for she was of a world different from his, and presently she would vanish back to her own high place, wherever that might be.  He could not have defined the difference between their worlds, if he had been called upon to do so, but he felt it intensely.  Still, he meant to make the most of every minute, and he intended to have as many minutes as he could get.  Each could be separately treasured as if it were a pearl.  He would make a jewel-case of his memory, he told himself, for he was very sure that never would so good a thing come to him again.