“C. Q.”; or, In the Wireless House
the stewardess and held them up in the light swinging them to and fro, gently
“Beautiful—are n’t they?” she cried.
“Beautiful, madam!” gasped the stewardess in unfeigned appreciation, for she knew a good pearl as well as anybody.
“Yes,” continued Lily, “I care for them more than for any of my other things, Mr. Trevelyan bought them for me five years ago at Tiffany ’s in New York and I wear them everywhere. I just could n’t live without them. No, nothing else, Dorrance!”
She poured out a cup of steaming coffee and crushed a honey-dipped Vienna roll between her white teeth.
“Dear old Dorrance!” she laughed. “If they were all as easy as she is! But Hubert would never get over it if he had to pay $30,000 more duty on those pearls—never! I fancy I can manage. Surely I can hide them somewhere!”
“The inspectors are very thorough, madam,” ventured Famine. “I am told that now thy even make the ladies undress,—and they look everywhere! There is no escape at all!”
“Nonsense!” returned her mistress rather103
