Muriel opened her arms impulsively. She felt as if Olga had been sent to lighten her darkest hour.
For a while she held her close, not speaking at all; and it was Olga who at last broke the silence.
"Darling, are you crying for Captain Grange?"
She raised her head then to meet the child's gaze of tearful sympathy.
"I am not crying, dear," she said. "And—it wouldn't be for him if I were. I don't want to cry for him. I just envy him, that's all."
She leaned her head against Olga's shoulder, rocking a little to and fro with closed eyes. "Yes," she said at last, "you can help me, Olga, if you will. That ring on the table, dear,—a ring with rubies—do you see it?"
"Yes," breathed Olga, holding her very close.
"Then just take it, dear." Muriel's voice was unutterably weary; she seemed to speak with a great effort. "It belongs to Nick. He gave it to me once, long ago, in remembrance of something. I want you to give it back to him, and tell him simply that I prefer to forget."
Olga took up the ring. Her lips were trembling. "Aren't you—aren't you being nice to Nick any more, Muriel?" she asked in a whisper.
Muriel did not answer.