The yellow book: an illustrated quarterly (2.1894)

By V., O., CS. 145

window, and then came back and held out her hand for the
keys.

" What a pretty ring," I said ; "I wonder I haven't noticed
it before. You can't have had it on lately."

She looked at me fearfully and again covered her hand.
' Please give me my keys."
" Yes, if I may look at the ring."

The little book-keeper turned away, and slipping quietly on to
her chair, burst into tears.

I pushed open the door of the office and walked in.

" What is it ? " I whispered, bending over her and gently
smoothing her hair.

"I—I hate him ! " she sobbed.

" Him ?—Him ? "

" Yes,—the—the ring man."

I feit for the little hand among the folds or the inky table-
cloth, and stooped and kissed her forehead. " Forgive me, dear-
est-"

" Go away," she sobbed, " go away. I wish I had never seen
you. It was all my fault: I left off wearing the ring on purpose,

but he's coming here to-day-and—and we are so many at

home—and have so little money-"

And as I went upstairs to pack I could see the little brown
head bent low over the inky table-cloth.