"I won't be extravagant at all, Lady Ursula," I cried. "I have no demand to make, except to ask you to let me have my property back." "The ring back? The ruby ring? Oh, my dear good creature you don't understand. I wrote to Madame Leroy offering to buy it. I will give you a cheque for it, Miss Lindley--or gold, if you prefer it. You shall have a price for the ring. Your own price, if it is not beyond reason. Now do you understand?" "I understand perfectly," I replied--I am afraid my tone was nettled--I certainly felt very angry. "I understand," I said. "You want me to sell the ring--I don't intend to sell it. It was a legacy left to me by a cousin, and I--I won't part with it." I said these words so decidedly that the fine young lady, who all her life had lived luxuriously, and, perhaps, now for the first time in her existence had her whim refused, stared at me in amazement. Her brows became contracted. Her pleasant, kindly, but insufferably condescending manner changed to one more natural although less amiable. Lady Ursula ceased to be the aristocrat, and became the woman. "You won't sell your ring?" she said. "But you did much the same last night. Last night you took money for the ring left to you by your--your cousin. I wore the ruby ring, and I paid you money for the loan." "I know you did," I answered. "I wanted money last night. I was in despair for money. I heard through one of her apprentices that Madame Leroy now and then hired out jewels to some of her rich customers. You wore the ring and paid me for it. Now I want it back. I am in a hurry, so please let me have it at once." I stood up as I spoke. Lady Ursula did not stir. "Sit down," she said. "No, not on that stiff little ottoman, but on the sofa, close to me. Now we can talk cosily. This seems an exciting story, Miss Lindley, and you have an exciting way of putting things. Fancy you, wanting money so badly as to have to hire out your ring. I always knew there were creatures in the world who would do anything to secure money, but I had not an idea that ladies were put to these straits." "You know very little indeed about the lives of some ladies," I answered. "The need of money comes to some who are ladies, and it presses them sore." "It must be awfully interesting and exciting," responded Lady Ursula. "It is both. At the same time it is cruel; it stabs horribly." "Ah." Lady Ursula looked me all over from head to foot. "Then you don't want money to-day," she said suddenly. "Yes, I do." "As badly as you did last night?" "I think so. Yes, I believe I want it quite as badly." "Then you will sell your ring; if the want of money stabs and is cruel, you will take what opportunity offers. For the sake of a sentiment you won't refuse to enrich yourself, and remove the pain which you speak of as so bitter."