"I think not, because I am going with Archibald."
"You can easily break off with him," anxiously.
"But supposing I do not wish to break off with him?"
"Am I to think, then, you prefer going with your cousin?" in a freezing tone.
"Certainly, I prefer his society to yours, ten thousand times," forcibly; "it was mere idleness made me say I wished to go with you. Had you agreed to my proposition I should probably have changed my mind afterward, so everything is better as it is; I am glad now you did not answer me differently."
"I did not answer you at all," returns Guy, unwisely.
"No, you were afraid," returns she, with a mocking laugh that sends the red blood to his forehead.
"What do you mean?" he asks, angrily.
"Nothing. It was foolish my mentioning the subject. We are disputing about a mere trifle. I am going with Archie whatever happens, because I like him, and because I know he is always glad to be with me."
She turns as though to leave him, and Guy impulsively catches her hand to detain her; as he does so, his eyes fall upon the little white fingers imprisoned in his own, and there, upon one of them—beside his own ring—he sees another,—newer.