"Yes, indeed—make a Shakespeare play with two scenes. One scene will be by the open fire—one will be the Thanksgivin'."
"And we will be lovers."
"I never intend to be anything else."
"All right, begin. Say it over—just what you did the night by the fire."
Very tenderly and with all the meaning of his soul he said the words her heart was hungry to hear again, and he kissed her.
With a radiant face she reached under the pillow and took out the little gold ring.
"Here's the ring. It won't stay on now. But put it on just as you did, and say the same words. I was so proud and so happy I thought my heart would burst, and my thanksgiving to God was very real."
His face was sober now. He took the ring and the thin, white hand, and, repeating the words that had made her so happy, he slipped the ring over her finger as he kissed her again and again. Then he lifted her hand and kissed it.
"You are getting to be a better lover all the time," she said. "Hold out your hand." She put the tips of her fingers in the palm of his hand and the ring dropped from her thin finger. "Keep it for me a little while. Don't let anyone get it and don't lose it. Now shall I sing for you?"