"What a weight," she said, and turned her hand admiringly, contemplating it after the manner of women, with her head on one side.
"Do you feel all funny?" inquired Jane, with obvious anxiety. "The luck——"
"No, silly," replied her sister. "Here, you put it on." She drew it off and slipped it on Jane's small finger. "Now Miss Mayne."
Miss Mayne shook her head laughingly. "No," she said, "my luck doesn't want any improving. I'm quite content with everything as it is."
Her host glanced at her quizzically. She certainly did not look as if she had many grounds for complaint, as she stood with her hands behind her back and mirth in her pretty eyes, a gracefully poised, perfectly healthy, happy specimen of young womanhood.
"Oh, Miss Mayne, but you must!" cried her charges in unison.
"You can never have too much of a good thing, you know," endorsed the host. Without quite knowing why, he was aware that his heart was beating a shade fast. He wanted her to put the ring on. He had an absurd inexplicable desire to put it on her finger himself.
"Just put it on the tip," pleaded Jane. "Please."
Miss Mayne was now blushing unaffectedly, and furious with herself.
"Why not?" asked Graeme with masculine obtuseness.