"Could it be possible?... But no ... no ... he doesn't know...."
Velmont at once pressed her with questions and Yvonne stood silent, motionless, anxious-faced. At last, she replied, in a low voice:
"This is not my wedding-ring. One day, long ago, it dropped from the mantelpiece in my bedroom, where I had put it a minute before and, hunt for it as I might, I could not find it again. So I ordered another, without saying anything about it ... and this is the one, on my hand...."
"Did the real ring bear the date of your wedding?"
"Yes ... the 23rd of October."
"And the second?"
"This one has no date."
He perceived a slight hesitation in her and a confusion which, in point of fact, she did not try to conceal.
"I implore you," he exclaimed, "don't hide anything from me.... You see how far we have gone in a few minutes, with a little logic and calmness.... Let us go on, I ask you as a favour."
"Are you sure," she said, "that it is necessary?"