"There's one thing I want to say to you, Muriel, before we go down," he said.
"Oh, what?" She turned a scared face towards him.
"Nothing to alarm you," said Nick, frowning at her quizzically. "I wanted to say it some minutes ago only I was shy. Look here, dear." He held out to her a twist of tissue-paper on the palm of his hand. "It's a ring I want you to wear for me. There's a message inside it. Read it when you are alone."
Muriel looked at the tiny packet without taking it. She had turned very white. "Oh, Nick," she faltered at last, "are you—are you—quite sure?"
"Quite sure of what?" questioned Nick. "Your mind? Or my own?"
"Don't!" she begged tremulously. "I can't laugh over this."
"Laugh!" said Nick sharply. And then swiftly his whole manner changed. "Yes, it's all right, dear," he said, smiling at her. "Take it, won't you? I am—quite—sure."
She took it obediently, but her reluctance was still very manifest.
Nick, however, did not appear to notice this.
"Don't look at it now," he said. "Wait till I'm not there. Put it away somewhere for the present, and let's have another gallop."
She glanced at him as she slipped his gift into her pocket. "Won't you let me thank you, Nick?" she asked shyly.