When she renewed her attendance at the Imperial College the third finger of her left hand was adorned with a very fine old ring with dark blue sapphires that had once belonged to a great-aunt of Manning’s. That ring manifestly occupied her thoughts a great deal. She kept pausing in her work and regarding it, and when Capes came round to her, she first put her hand in her lap and then rather awkwardly in front of him. But men are often blind to rings. He seemed to be. In the afternoon she had considered certain doubts very carefully, and decided on a more emphatic course of action. “Are these ordinary sapphires?” she said. He bent to her hand, and she slipped off the ring and gave it to him to examine. “Very good,” he said. “Rather darker than most of them. But I’m generously ignorant of gems. Is it an old ring?” he asked, returning it. “I believe it is. It’s an engagement ring....” She slipped it on her finger, and added, in a voice she tried to make matter-of-fact: “It was given to me last week.” “Oh!” he said, in a colorless tone, and with his eyes on her face. “Yes. Last week.” She glanced at him, and it was suddenly apparent for one instant of illumination that this ring upon her finger was the crowning blunder of her life. It was apparent, and then it faded into the quality of an inevitable necessity. “Odd!” he remarked, rather surprisingly, after a little interval. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. She sat very still, and his eyes rested on that ornament for a moment, and then travelled slowly to her wrist and the soft lines of her forearm. “I suppose I ought to congratulate you,” he said. Their eyes met, and his expressed perplexity and curiosity. “The fact is--I don’t know why--this takes me by surprise. Somehow I haven’t connected the idea with you. You seemed complete--without that.” “Did I?” she said. “I don’t know why. But this is like--like walking round a house that looks square and complete and finding an unexpected long wing running out behind.” She looked up at him, and found he was watching her closely. For some seconds of voluminous thinking they looked at the ring between them, and neither spoke. Then Capes shifted his eyes to her microscope and the little trays of unmounted sections beside it. “How is that carmine working?” he asked, with a forced interest. “Better,” said Ann Veronica, with an unreal alacrity. “But it still misses the nucleolus.” CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH THE SAPPHIRE RING Part 1