Esther and Ferguson walked across the open spaces of lawn and then entered the woods. Ferguson had set the pace as slow, but he noticed that she quickened it, faring along beside him with a light, swift step. He also noticed that she was quiet, as she had been at dinner; as if she was abstracted, not like herself. He had seen a good deal of her lately and thought of her a good deal—thought many things. One was that she was interesting, provocative in her quiet reserve, not as easy to see through as most women. She was clever, used her brains; he had formed a habit of talking to her on matters that he never spoke of with other girls. And he admired her looks, nothing cheap about them; "thoroughbred" was the word that always rose to his mind as he greeted her. It seemed to him all wrong that she should be working for a wage as the Janneys’ hireling, for, though he was "advanced" in his opinions, when it came to women there was a strain of sentimentality in his make-up. On the wood path he let her go ahead, seeing her figure spattered with white lights that ran across her shoulders and up and down her back. They had walked in silence for some minutes when he suddenly said: "What’s amiss?" She slackened her gait so that he came up beside her. "Amiss? With what, with whom?" "You. What’s wrong? What’s on your mind?" A shaft of moonlight fell through a break in the branches and struck across her shoulder. It caught the little rosebuds that lay against her neck and he saw them move as if lifted by a quick breath. "There’s nothing on my mind. Why do you think there is?" "Because at dinner you didn’t eat anything and were as quiet as if there was an embargo on the English language." "Couldn’t I be just stupid?" He turned to her, seeing her face a pale oval against the silver-moted background: "No. Not if you tried your darndest." Dick Ferguson’s tongue did not lend itself readily to compliments. He gave forth this one with a seriousness that was almost solemn. She laughed, the sound suggesting embarrassment, and looked away from him her eyes on the ground. Just in front of them the woodland roof showed a gap, and through it the light fell across the path in a glittering pool. As they advanced upon it she gave an exclamation, stayed him with an outflung arm, and bent to the moss at her feet: "Oh, wait a minute—How exciting! I’ve found something." She raised herself, illumined by the radiance, a small object that showed a golden glint in her hand. Then her voice came deprecating, disappointed: "Oh, what a fraud! I thought it was a ring." On her palm lay what looked like a heavy enameled ring. Ferguson took it up; it was of paper, a cigar band embossed in red and gold. "Umph," he said, dropping it back, "I don’t wonder you were fooled."