As a matter of fact, nothing of the sort had happened. Matthias was absorbed in negotiations concerning an old play which had caught the fancy of the manager. Joan, though he knew her at sight, was now too inconsiderable a figure in his world for him to recall, off-hand, that he had ever made her a present. Nevertheless the girl coloured furiously, and blushed again under the inquisitive stare of her companion. "Who's that?" "Who?" Joan muttered sullenly. "The fellow who bowed to you just now." "Oh, that?" Joan made an unconvincing effort at speaking casually: "A man named Matthias--a playwright, I believe." "Oh," said the other girl quietly. "Never done anything much, has he?" "I don't know." "You don't know him very well?" There was a touch of irony in the question that struck sparks from Joan's temper. "That's my business!" "I'm sure I _beg_ your pardon," Hattie drawled exasperatingly. And the incident was considered closed, though it didn't pass without leaving its indelible effect upon their association. With Joan it had another result: it made her think. Retrospectively examining the contretemps, after she had gone to bed that night, she arrived at the comforting conclusion that she had been a little fool to think that Matthias "held that old ring against her." He hadn't been her lover for several weeks without furnishing the girl with a fairly clear revelation of his character. He was simple-hearted and sincere; she could not remember his uttering one ungenerous word or being guilty of one ungenerous action, and she didn't believe he could make room in his mind for an ungenerous thought. Now if she were to return it, he would think that fine of her.... Of course, she must take it back in person. If she returned it by registered mail, he would have reason to believe her afraid to meet him--that she had been frightened by his mere glance into sending it back. Not that she hadn't every right in the world to keep it, if she liked: there was no law compelling a girl to return her engagement ring when she broke with a man. But Matthias would admire her for it. Moreover, it was just possible that he hadn't as yet arrived at the stage of complete indifference toward her. And he had "the ear of the managers." Nerving herself to the ordeal, two days later, she dressed with elaborate care in the suit she had worn on her flight from Quard. Newly sponged and pressed, it was quite presentable, if a little heavy for the season; moreover, it lacked the lustre and style of her later acquisitions. It wouldn't do to seem too prosperous.... It was a Saturday afternoon, and Hattie had taken herself off to a nearby ocean beach for the week-end; something for which Joan was grateful, inasmuch as it enabled her to dress her part without exciting comment. To her relief, a servant new to the house since her time, answered her ring at the bell of Number 289, and with an indifferent nod indicated the door to the back-parlour.