"I would be honourable if I died for it," he remarked with indifference, looking at the rose. "Is it quite the thing for you to listen to another man whilst you wear that ring upon your finger?"
Ellen took it off and pushed it towards him along the table.
This frightened him. He turned as white as ashes. Until now, he had only been speaking in jealousy, not in belief. Her own face was becoming white, her lips were compressed to hide their trembling. And thus they sat for a minute or two. He looked at the ring, then looked at her.
"Do you mean it, Ellen?" he asked, in a voice that struggled with agitation, proving how very earnest he deemed the thing was becoming--whatever it might have begun in.
She made no answer.
"Do you wish to give me back this ring?"
"What you said was, I thought, equivalent to asking for it."
"It was not. You know better."
"Why are you quarrelling with me?"
Moving an inch nearer, he changed his tone to gentleness, bending his head forward.