"Angry with you? No indeed, Evelyn," I said; "why should I be angry?"
"Oh, I was so horrid to you last night, I know I was; I can't bear to think how nasty and disagreeable I was. How you must have hated me!"
"No, Evelyn dear," I said; "you were only tired and—"
"And what?" she said.
"And troubled, were you not, dear?" I ventured to say. "Troubled about something of which I did not know, and so could not sympathise with you."
"Yes," she said, "I was very bothered and troubled, and I wanted to tell you about it so much; but I did not know whether I ought to do so."
I did not answer her, but went on quietly with my work.
After a minute or two she said in a whisper: "May, I'm not going to tell you anything, but I'm going to show you something. That won't be telling, will it? Hush! Is that any one coming? No, it is no one coming; it is only Clemence going downstairs; but, mind, if the door opens, you must look just the same as usual, and not say a word. Mind!"
She drew from her pocket a little leathern case and opened it. Inside was a beautiful diamond ring.
"Isn't it pretty?" she asked, as she showed it to me.