"I have a right to ask," he said. "You are my promised wife. Who gave you the jewel you wear on your hand?"
"I refuse to answer you," she replied.
"Doris," he said, and there was more of contempt than of pain in his voice. "Doris, has that anything to do with your coldness to me?"
For one moment she looked at him steadily, then she seemed to remember that defiance and denial would be useless—would only cause inquiries. Her only way out of the difficulty lay in untruth. She smiled sweetly in his face.
"My jealous Earle," she said; "who do you think gave me this ring?"
"I cannot tell," he replied, gravely.
"Will you promise, if I tell you, never to mention it?"
"I promise faithfully, Doris."
"Lady Estelle Hereford gave it to me on the day I went to Downsbury Castle. Are you jealous of her, Earle?"
"No, my darling. I hope the time may come when I shall bring you even brighter jewels than this," and he kissed the fair, false hand as he spoke.