'So does papa. It is a hobby of his that they indicate race or culture,' replied Alison, smiling now.
Certainly the short, thick digits of Lord Cadbury showed neither, and, poor man, he thought so, for he winced at the girl's reply, it was so like one of Sir Ranald's remarks; and the gentle Alison blushed that she had made it. To do so was altogether unlike herself, but she was irritated by the whole situation.
'That is a charming ring!' said her host, touching Bevil Goring's gift—the gift she prized beyond her own life.
She drew her hand away now.
'I have in that casket a diamond hoop with opals alternately—one of remarkable size and value—and if you would permit me to offer it——'
'Oh, no, never—thanks!' she exclaimed, growing quite pale.
'Why?' he asked, with annoyance and surprise.
'Opals are unlucky.'
'Unlucky? This is some Scotch superstition, I suppose?'
'It is Oriental, I believe. Moreover, I have no wish for more rings, and never accept gifts of that kind,' she added, with some hauteur of manner.