"Dear me," he muttered briskly, as if struck with a sudden thought, "a quarter to six, I do declare! Excuse me a few minutes, Kingston."
"Certainly," replied Mr. Kingston. And then he went out.
"How stupid they are!" cried poor Rachel to herself, almost stamping her foot with vexation. But there was no help for it. The affianced couple were once more left to themselves—as affianced couples should be, and should like to be—in the pleasant firelight and no less pleasant twilight shadows that were filling the quiet room.
Mr. Kingston rose, took his reluctant sweetheart's hand, and led her back to the sofa by the hearth.
"What time do they have dinner here?" he asked.
"Seven o'clock," said Rachel, with a sinking heart.
"Then we shall have nearly an hour to ourselves, shan't we? Come then, and let us have a good long talk. But first, I've got something for you."
He began to fumble in his pockets, and presently drew forth a little square packet, neatly sealed up in paper, which he laid on Rachel's knee. Wise man! he had not had his long and varied experiences for nothing.
The girl in smiling perplexity turned the mysterious parcel over and over, broke first one seal and then another with much delicate elaboration; cautiously stripped off the paper wrappings, and revealed, as she expected, a morocco jewel-case.
"Oh, how kind!" she murmured, stroking it caressingly with her white fingers.