"Of course. I'd be ashamed to have anybody know that this was my engagement ring."
"All right," said Allison, with defiant cheerfulness. "You shall have just exactly what you want, and, to make sure, I'll take you with me when I go to get it. I'm sorry I made such a mistake."
There was a flash of blue and silver in the faint light, and a soft splash in the lily-pool. "There," he went on, "it's out of your way now."
"You didn't need to throw it away," she said, icily. "I didn't say I didn't want it, nor that I wouldn't wear it. I only said I wanted a diamond."
"It could be found, I suppose," he replied, thoughtfully, ashamed of his momentary impulse. "If the pool were drained—"
"That would cost more than the ring is worth," Isabel interrupted.
"Come, let's go in."
He was about to explain that a very good-sized pool could be drained for the price of the ring, but fortunately thought better of it, and was bitterly glad, now, that he had thrown it away.
In the house they talked of other things, but the thrust still lingered in his consciousness, unforgotten.
"How's your father?" inquired Isabel, in a conversational pause, as she could think of nothing else to say.
"All right, I guess. Why?"