Exactly what she meant to do when she stopped before the shop of Thomas Barrymore & Company she could not have explained, even to herself.  Perhaps she had the curiosity to see how the bag would look in the window, in case the jeweller had placed it there; and sure enough, he had displayed it, anxious not to miss a sale.  There were other gold bags, but this one—­of many adventures—­was by far the most beautiful; and suddenly she knew why she had come.  She was going to buy the thing for herself.  She could not bear to let any one else own that bag.

Of course, if she had been sensible and business-like, she might have told Kate before selling to inquire at some shop what would be a fair price; and then she might have offered the girl that amount.  Now she must pay for her pride; and having less than half the income of the Princess di Sereno, Mrs. May ought to have been thinking about the California land she wished to purchase before committing useless extravagances which she could no longer afford.  Besides, if she bought back the bag, she would always be ashamed to use it under the eyes of Kate.

She pointed it out to one of the Barrymore assistants, who said it had just arrived from Paris, and the price was seven hundred and fifty dollars.  For her life, Angela could not have contradicted him or haggled.  Luckily, or unluckily, her money had come from San Francisco.  It served her right, she thought, to pay two hundred and fifty dollars more than if she had dealt with Kate.  She should have been ashamed even to want Mr. Hilliard’s bag, still more to buy it; and she took away her purchase in a beautiful box, with all the joy of a normal female thing who has secured for her own something which she ought not to have.  When Angela di Sereno had been able to afford everything, she had longed for nothing.  There was a new spice in life.  And the redemption of the bag was to be a dead secret.

“Back to the hotel, please; and I’ll engage your car for the next three or four days,” said Mrs. May to Sealman, suddenly full of kindness for him and all the world.

Nick sat in the window of a better hotel than Angela’s.  She had chosen hers on the advice of a lady in the dining-car, a lovely blonde, nee brunette, who had once enjoyed a honeymoon in Los Angeles, and was now on her way Nevadaward to get a divorce.  Nick had been to Los Angeles before, and knew where to go without asking advice, though the same lovely lady would have been enchanted to give him some.  Mr. Millard was also in his hotel, and would not move to Mrs. May’s (although it was cheaper), so long as Nick remained on guard.  That was one of the reasons why Nick stayed.  But there were others.  His luggage he had wired for, and it would come back.

He sat by the window, wondering whether Mrs. May would be angry if he showed himself; or whether, on the principle that a cat may look at a king, she would consider that he had as much right to be in Los Angeles as she had.