She spoke the last words with a charming hesitation, then went to the little cabinet in the corner and unlocked a drawer. Within was a carved box which when opened showed a massive golden circlet. "Dad wore it," said Bettina, "on his little finger, but his hands were fat. Anthony's fingers are slim, and he can fit it on the third finger. If he can't get it on the third finger, he shan't wear it." Diana stared at her in surprise. "Why not?" "Because it would remind me of Dad," said Bettina, "and I hated Dad." Here was a new phase of a nature which Diana had judged gentle and yielding. "But, my dear," she protested, "surely he was your father." "He broke mother's heart," said Bettina, obstinately; "he loved so many times, and there's only one love that is worth while, and people who can go from one person to another aren't worth thinking about." It was the judgment of a child ignorant of life, but so aptly did her condemnation fit in with Sophie's words of the night before, that Diana drew a sharp breath. "Perhaps he was only mistaken," she said; "perhaps he didn't understand until it was too late what he had lost." "He should have understood. I don't want to be harsh--he was my father, and I wouldn't talk this way to every one. But suppose Anthony treated me the way my father treated mother. Suppose he told me he loved me, and then--some day, I found that he cared--for some one else. What would you think of him then--what would you think of Anthony?" As she brought her argument to a triumphant close, Diana put up her white-gloved hands as if to ward off a blow, then she said, a little breathlessly, "Don't let Anthony wear the ring--not yet----" Bettina, unconscious of the emotion she had roused, put the ring back in the box. "I don't believe I shall," she said, thoughtfully; "there's an old superstition that a ring worn by an inconstant person carries inconstancy with it--and while I don't believe it--it would make me uncomfortable." "It would--indeed," was Diana's fervent confirmation. She was still shivering with the shock of the girlish outburst. "She loves him," she said to herself in dismay. "She really loves him." She rose and laid her hand on Bettina's shoulder. "Forget to be unhappy while you are with me, Betty, dear. You are going to be very gay--and, oh, so very, very young----" She bent and kissed her. "And now, I want you to do two things for me;--first, you must call me Diana--and second, you must believe that I am really your friend. If I ever do anything to make you doubt, remember this, that in my heart is just one wish, to help my old friend Anthony to happiness----" The girl laughed softly, her head up, her eyes shining. "You can't make him much happier than he is," she said; "it may sound awfully conceited, but I think he's happy--because he's going to marry me--Diana." CHAPTER V IN WHICH BETTINA DANCES