As she brought her argument to a triumphant close, Diana put up her white-gloved hands as if to ward off a blow, then she said, a little breathlessly, "Don't let Anthony wear the ring—not yet——"
Bettina, unconscious of the emotion she had roused, put the ring back in the box.
"I don't believe I shall," she said, thoughtfully; "there's an old superstition that a ring worn by an inconstant person carries inconstancy with it—and while I don't believe it—it would make me uncomfortable."
"It would—indeed," was Diana's fervent confirmation.
She was still shivering with the shock of the girlish outburst.
"She loves him," she said to herself in dismay. "She really loves him."
She rose and laid her hand on Bettina's shoulder. "Forget to be unhappy while you are with me, Betty, dear. You are going to be very gay—and, oh, so very, very young——" She bent and kissed her. "And now, I want you to do two things for me;—first, you must call me Diana—and second, you must believe that I am really your friend. If I ever do anything to make you doubt, remember this, that in my heart is just one wish, to help my old friend Anthony to happiness——"
The girl laughed softly, her head up, her eyes shining. "You can't make him much happier than he is," she said; "it may sound awfully conceited, but I think he's happy—because he's going to marry me—Diana."