"If you will get in," the General said to the woman, "you can tell me what you have to say—"
"Perhaps I should not have asked it," Hilda said, hesitating, "but I had seen you riding in the Park, and I thought of this way—I couldn't of course, come to the house."
"No." He had sunk down among his robes. "No."
"I felt that perhaps you had been led to—misunderstand." She came directly to the point. "I wanted to know—what I had done—what had made the difference. I couldn't believe that you had not meant what you said."
He stirred uneasily. "I have been very ill—"
Her long white hands were ungloved, the diamonds that he had given her sparkled as she drew the ring off slowly. "I felt that I ought to give you this—if it was all really over."
"It is all over. But keep it—please."
"I should like to keep it," she admitted frankly, "because, you see, I've never had a ring like this."
It was the Cophetua and Beggar Maid motif but it left him cold. "Hilda," he said, "I saw you that night trying on my wife's jewels. That was my reason."
She was plainly disconcerted. "But that was child's play. I had never had anything—it was like a child—dressing up."