The Jewel Box

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Authors: Anna Davis
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things are the most important things in life, and you seem to be saying that people who don’t live that sort of life are…well…worthless, pretty much.”
    Grace felt stung. “I don’t think that. You surely don’t believe that of me?”
    “Darling, you can take a little criticism, can’t you? Your column’s so popular—you’re doing so well…I suppose I have just the smallest suspicion that most of your readers don’t lead the sort of life you do. They read your column at the end of a long, hard day, when the children have gone to bed and they finally have a chance to put their feet up. They’re on the outside looking in. Reading Diamond Sharp is like going to the theater. Or perhaps to a zoo.”
    “Nancy.” She reached out and took her sister’s hand. “Please don’t talk that way. I’d change places with you in a second if I could. Tilly and Felix…”
    “I know. Really, I do know.” A heavy glum look crept across her face, and she pulled her hand free. She was clearly thinking about George.
    Grace searched about for a distraction. “Hey, Nancy, take a look at those two chaps at the bar. No, don’t turn around so obviously.”
    “What about them?” Nancy was all wide-eyed innocence.
    “Gosh, you’re such a sap. Haven’t you noticed how nice-looking they are? I haven’t seen them in here before.”
    “Grace, you’re incorrigible.”
    “Well, they’ve looked over at us a few times. It’s not so often you get two that are halfway decent. Not in the same room at the same time, let alone actually together.”
    Nancy was becoming a touch panicky. “Don’t do anything. Please. We’re having a quiet drink. That’s enough for me.”
    Grace sniffed. “Please yourself. Just don’t let it be said that I don’t do my best for you.”
    “I’d never say that. You’re a darling. I’m just not…”
    “I know.” Grace was still watching the two men on stools at the bar. Well-dressed men in their mid-thirties deep in conversation together. “So, what about our new friend John Cramer?”
    “What about him?”
    “Come on , Nancy.”
    “He’s a neighbor. He’s been kind to me.”
    “For goodness’ sakes!”
    “He likes being around the children. He has a daughter at boarding school in the States and he misses her. His wife died years ago.” But she was blushing as she said it. She had always been a blusher. She’d never been able to lie convincingly or keep secrets. Not like Grace.
    “Got to know him quite well, haven’t you? Just how much time have you spent with him?”
    Nancy’s mouth pinched up—the embarrassment turning to anger. “Why shouldn’t I spend time with him? I’m stuck in the house all day every day with Mummy and the children—and for once there’s actually been someone around who I can have a nice walk with now and then, and a bit of intelligent conversation. John Cramer has shown me nothing but courtesy and respect. We’re both lonely.”
    “I see.”
    “Don’t look at me like that!”
    “Like what?”
    Nancy gestured wildly. “All…knowing and superior. Grace, you look like Mummy on a bad day.”
    “That,” said Grace, “is possibly the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
    “Well, you deserved it.” Nancy gulped down the rest of her drink. “You have hundreds of gentlemen friends who are just friends. Can’t I have even one without all these raised eyebrows and suggestive comments? Is it because you go out to work and I don’t? Does one need to move about in the world of men and business in order to be allowed platonic acquaintances? I need friends just as much as you do.”
    “Oh, Nancy, I was only teasing.”
    “Well, just so long as you understand. There is nothing more than friendship between John Cramer and me.” She was cheering up again. The storm had blown over. “But what about you? Who’s the mystery man you keep on about in your column?”
    “I don’t keep on about him. I’ve mentioned him twice. Anyway, I don’t

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