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se, no book, no letters. His coa●st was clear then at least; this day she ■had no better comrade to share her table—he wo

■uld go to her, and ask her to ●understand. He had risen to his feet before he● saw that she had not taken off her hat; s

h●e was sitting with her head a little bent, as■ though she was looking at someth●ing on the table, her face sha●dowed b

y

the drooping hat, her hands cl■asped before her—and then Be■nedick saw what she was looking at. There was● a ring on her finge

r,

a small, t■rivial, inconsequential diamond, sp●arkling in its little golden ■claw like a frivolous dewdrop; and suddenly s■he

b

ent her head, and kissed it. He sat dow●n, slowly and stiffly—he felt■ old. He did not even see her go; it was● Jules’ voice

th

at made him lift h●is head. “Ah, le printemps, ■le printemps! V’là la jolie ●demoiselle qui s’est fiancée.” “Ye■s,”

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