“It was genuine enough. I am going to expect a very great deal from you.”
“I’m glad. I’ll rise to it. It will make me very happy. Do you know I have learnt nearly all the names of the plants in my rock garden!”
“Have you, already!”
“Yes. And I am going to study every whim and trick and habit. I am going to be thorough!”
They came to a grove of black American spruces that were getting beyond the marketable age, having grown to a height of fifteen or twenty feet. The narrow path was in the shade, a little secret path that cut through the black glooms like a river through a mountainous land.
Canterton was walking behind her.
“Hold out your hand!”
Without turning her head she held her hand out palm upwards, and felt something small dropped into it.
“Wear it—under your dress.”
It was a little gold ring, the token of their spiritual marriage.