"This is never for me?" she cried, aghast.
"That it is—if you will take it."
She was deeply moved: how could she take a ring from him? And yet how could she refuse, or how explain! Each alternative was harder than the last.
"It is far too good for me," she murmured, "for a mere birthday present! You are too generous. I can't dream of letting you give me anything half so good!"
"What nonsense! It is not half good enough; it's only the best I could get from Devenholme. I sent in the dogcart for the crack jeweller of the place; it brought him back with a bagful of things, and this was the best of a bad lot. I wish I'd kept the fellow! You might have chosen something else."
She saw her loophole and made no reply.
"Would you prefer something else?" he asked eagerly.
"Well, if you insist on giving me a present, it must be something not half so good."
"That's my affair."
"And perhaps not a ring."