'An' as for this'—he picked up the ring and let it drop on the floor—'to hell wi' sich nonsense!'—and ground it under his heel. 'So long!' he said, and went out quickly.
XX
THE REAL THING AT LAST
For an appreciable number of seconds after the door had closed Christina continued to gaze in its direction, her head well up, her face stern and rather pale. Then, quite suddenly, her bosom gave a quick heave, her lips parted, trembling, her eyes blinked, her whole attitude became lax. But she was not going to cry; certainly not! She was far too angry for tears; angry with herself no less than Macgregor. He had actually departed without being dismissed; worse still, he had had the last word! An observer—the thought struck her—would have assumed that she, weak wretch, had humbly allowed him to go and leave her in the wrong! Her maiden pride had somehow failed her, for she ought to have sent him forth crushed. And yet, surely, she had hurt, punished, humiliated him. Oh, no doubt of that! And for a moment her illogical heart wavered. She drew out her hanky, muttering 'how I hate him!'—and blew her pretty nose. Then she clenched her hands and set her teeth. Then she went lax again. Then—oh, dear! he had even insulted her by leaving her to pick up the cast-off ring!—for, of course, she could not leave it there for Miss Tod or a customer to see.
Haughtily she moved round the counter and with scornful finger-tips took up the tiny wreckage of a great hope. The gold was twisted and bruised, the little pearls were loose in their places. All at once she felt a horrid pain in her throat. . . .
Miss Tod appeared, fresh from the joys of strong tea.
'Oh, lassie, ha'e ye hurted yersel'?'
Christina choked, recovered herself and cried: 'I've sold a blighter a sixpenny notebook for threepence, an' I'll never get over it as long as I live. B—but I hope that'll no be long!'
Just then Heaven sent a customer.
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