“That’ll be lovely,” said June; and a deep thrill ran in her heart as she realized that her dreams were coming true.
William took a wad of Bradburys from his breast pocket. He was now a man of property, with a rent roll of twelve hundred a year, but even a most careful counting would not let them muster more than seven. June, however, as became the lawful owner of an Old Master, whom to acquire for the nation a committee had been lately formed, was equal to the occasion. For she promptly took a wad from the vanity bag which now graced her travels instead of her mother’s old purse, and made up the sum.
In the meantime, the jeweller, a man of ripe experience, had put two and two together.
“Will you wear it, madam, or will you have it packed in the box?”
An unconventional question, no doubt, but places like Crowdham Market are close to nature and get down to bedrock by short cuts.
“I’ll wear it,” June answered. “And I’ll have the box as well. It’ll do for my dressing table to keep pins in.”
The jeweller, one of the old school, bowed to June as he handed her the box and also the change. And then, a jeweller with a fine technique, he smiled at William in a Masonic manner and handed him the ring.
June, as cool as if she was on parade, removed a white kid glove from her left hand. “That’s the heart finger,” she said.
If she blushed a little, the jeweller was too busy writing out the receipt at the other end of the shop to be aware of the fact.