"You give me that ring, Charlie," Joan demanded ominously.
"You got anotha good guess coming. What I'll give you is jush two minutes to tell me name of the fellow't give it to you."
"Don't be a fool, Charlie!"
"I don't intend to be fool—any longer. You tell me or—"
He checked, searching his befuddled mind for a compelling threat.
With a shift of manner, Joan extended her hand in pleading.
"Give me the ring, Charlie, and be sensible. I haven't done anything wrong. I can explain."
"Well...." Grudgingly he dropped the ring into her palm. But immediately her fingers had closed upon it, mistrust again possessed him. "Now, you tell me—"
"Very well," she interrupted patiently. "You needn't shout. I don't mind telling you now. It's my engagement ring."
"Your what?" sharply.