Neal fumbled in his pocket and brought forth a small packet which he gave her. Alison opened it eagerly. “Oh, how beautiful,” she exclaimed as she disclosed a hoop of yellow gold set with a single fine emerald. “I never had a ring before,” she said slipping it on her finger and viewing it admiringly. Then she took it off and looked up at him. “I don’t believe I will wear it—just yet,” she said hesitatingly.
“But when I come back?”
“Yes, I think so. Thank you very, very much, Neal. It is a very beautiful present, much too good for me.”
“I thought you were a princess or a lady somebody or other.”
“Yes, so I like to imagine, but I’d rather not wear the ring if you don’t mind.”
“Wear it when you please, little lady.”
“I ought to give you my colors to wear. Here, let me have your hat.” She took the broad-brimmed sombrero and twisted in with its gilt cord a blue ribbon she wore. “There,” she said, “you are fairly decked. You haven’t a shield, and I haven’t a sleeve embroidered with pearls, but those are my colors. I wish I could give you something better to remember me by when you have brought me such a beautiful thing as this.” She gazed down at the ring which she held in her hand.
“Do you think I am likely to forget you?”
“Oh, no. I am too conceited for that.”
“There is one thing I should like. You know, it is possible—anything is possible—I might not come back.”