it after what you wrote it meant." She began struggling with the heavy gold band on the third finger of her left hand.
Nathan made a little negative motion. "I don't want it. I believe a married woman usually wears her husband's ring, doesn't she, even if he's dead, as long as she bears his name. I don't want the ring he gave you."
"Very well," she acquiesced. She would still require it. That was so. "But remember you're free—as free as you tell me I am. Oh, I understand. I see," she broke off. "You're changed, not only on the outside, but all through—all through—all through."
He glanced at her sharply, suspiciously. Did she, could she mean that his love for her had changed? And the touch of her very shopping-bag had made him tremble!
"I don't blame you for not caring any more," she went on. "In fact, I think it would be strange if you did. I haven't had any part in your making-over."
Her voice caught and broke a little. Nathan heard the catch and the break. He wanted, he wanted to grasp hold of her bare hand lying so dangerously near and crush it and crush it! He wanted to show her, then and there, whether he had changed or not! But he didn't. Instead he said quietly, but in a voice that failed utterly to be calm and steady, "Listen, Rebecca, listen, listen. We're strangers, you and I. Somebody just introduced us to each other a day or two ago. We've got only as far as first names. But I want very much to get further. Oh, I do want to know you better, I want you to know me better. But
