“Is it?” said Mary and Helen.
“Mine's the ring,” said Mary. “It's dirty rather, but it would have got dirty, anyway, afterwards.” She watched anxiously to see whether he preferred Helen's.
He watched them nervously, lest he should be expected to kiss them. He wiped his mouth with his hand instead, and began rapidly to talk:
“Jampot will know now which mine is. She's always giving me the wrong one. I'll have it always, and the green thing too.”
“It's for the middle of a table,” Helen interrupted.
“Yes, I know,” said Jeremy hurriedly. “I'll always have it too—like Mary's—when I'm grown up and all.... I say, shall I open the other one now?”
“Yes, you can,” said Helen and Mary, ceasing to take the central place in the ceremony, spectators now and eagerly excited.
But Mary had a last word.
“You do like mine, don't you?”
“Of course, like anything.”