She followed him into the gloomy, smoky, dingy room. Bare yellow
benches framed an empty square of brown linoleum. A labouring man
with his wife and a child sat waiting with the stolid patience of the
poor in one corner. They were starting on some Saturday afternoon
excursion, and had mistimed their train. Maude Selby and Frank
Crosse took the other corner. He drew a jeweller's box from his
pocket and removed the lid. Something sparkled among the wadding.

'O Frank! Is that really it?'

'Do you like it?'

'What a broad one it is! Mother's is quite thin.'

'They wear thin in time.'

'It is beautiful. Shall I try it on?'

'No, don't. There is some superstition about it.'

'But suppose it won't fit?'

'That is quite safe. I measured it with your sapphire ring.'

'I haven't half scolded you enough about that sapphire ring. How
could you go and give twenty-two guineas for a ring?--oh yes, sir,
that was the price, for I saw a duplicate yesterday in the
Goldsmith's Company. You dear extravagant old boy!'