“I am not superstitious,” I said. “I would like—I am going to have an opal ring, with very small stones in it.” “We are going to have diamonds,” remarked my employer quietly. “Fetch me some other diamond rings to look at.” “I would rather not have them,” I urged, in the temporary absence of the black curls and white teeth. “And I would rather that you had,” ordered my employer. “After all, diamonds are the show-stones; everybody notices them. They look so unmistakably _like_ an engagement, don’t you see?” “Yes—I see,” I said reluctantly, my nerves feeling more jangled than ever. “But, Mr. Waters, if I must have them, I shall insist upon sending back that ring when——” “When the time comes we can discuss that,” the Governor cut me short just as Mr. Levi Smarm bent over us with his wave-offering of jewels on a tray. “Yes. That’s a good one, that big fellow with the stones going nearly all round. Those seem a fine colour.” “A perfect colour, sir; perfectly matched. I am sure that you will——” “Try it on,” said Mr. Waters, holding the winking, flashing circlet out to me. I pulled off my left-hand glove, but here the suave shopman, evidently accustomed to shopping couples who showed more appreciation of his sympathy and understanding, interposed again. “Oh, pardon me, sir, but that will never do. That would be most incorrect! No young lady would keep on an engagement ring that had not been first slipped on to her finger by her _fiancé_ himself!” Mr. Waters’ glance of contempt at the shopman would have shrivelled up the entire staff at the Near Oriental. But several little things had shown me already that the man who is a Grand Mogul in his own offices can go down several degrees in importance when he leaves the City. Mr. Levi Smarm met that glance with another flashing smile, and evidently waited for us to take this last hint on bridal or betrothal etiquette as it was meant. I believe Mr. Waters was going to do so. A slight shrug of his broad, sloping shoulders seemed to say, “We may as well have everything _en règle_ while we’re about it,” as he turned to me. But I wasn’t going to have any masquerading “frills” about this business that could possibly be avoided, and this particular development in our “romance” _was_ avoidable. I said very quickly and decidedly, “Oh, but I don’t believe in anything of _that_ sort, you know.” Then quietly I took the ring, before he knew what I was about, out of my employer’s hand, and slipped it on to my own “wedding-finger.” There was a faint purple smudge off a new ribbon on my knuckle just above the ring. I couldn’t help thinking how entirely characteristic of the whole affair this was: the stain of my daily labour, showing side by side with these wonderful stones—that must also be worn as part of the gaining of my daily bread. The ring fitted as if measured for me. “You wish me to keep this?” I said briskly to the Governor.