window, and then came back and held out her hand for the keys.
"What a pretty ring," I said; "I wonder I haven't noticed it before. You can't have had it on lately."
She looked at me fearfully and again covered her hand.
"Please give me my keys."
"Yes, if I may look at the ring."
The little book-keeper turned away, and slipping quietly on to her chair, burst into tears.
I pushed open the door of the office and walked in.
"What is it?" I whispered, bending over her and gently smoothing her hair.
"I—I hate him!" she sobbed.
"Him?—Him?"
"Yes,—the—the ring man."
I felt for the little hand among the folds or the inky table cloth, and stooped and kissed her forehead. "Forgive me, dearest———"
"Go away," she sobbed, "go away. I wish I had never seen you. It was all my fault: I left off wearing the ring on purpose, but he's coming here to-day———and—and we are so many at home—and have so little money———"
And as I went upstairs to pack I could see the little brown head bent low over the inky table-cloth.
