She slowly walked along in front of the presents, lifting a card here, stopping a moment there, only half attentive, half seeing them, having this day more dazzling things than material jewels to think about. She stopped finally, before the pigskin purse lying between the sapphire ring and the lacquer box. The young man who had been thrown out of family life at twelve to fight for his existence, watched this spoiled society girl in her satin dress, surrounded by objects whose value footed up to hundreds of thousands. “I have not _half_ seen the things yet! Aren’t they wonderful?” She picked up the purse. “This is from my chauffeur. Wasn’t it kind of him?” She opened it mechanically, looked up at Ramsay, and said, laughing: “Oh, gracious! That’s daddy!” “It was meant for a surprise for you.” “Never mind,” she said, “I won’t tell. Indeed, if any one asks, I’ll swear it was empty.” She laughed and put it down again. “It is great of you, Captain Ramsay, to have watched the presents for me. Thank you a thousand times.” Ramsay looked up at the prayer rug. “I wish since you are here, Miss Hereford, you’d tell me what the letters around this prayer rug mean! What do they say?” She thought a minute. “I have got it written out upstairs somewhere.” It was difficult for the bride to bring her attention to Persian characters. “As near as I can remember they say: “To the Great Lover Honor and Dishonor Life and Death are in the hands of the Beloved.” Ramsay nodded. “Great!” he said. “I like it awfully. It’s ripping.” “Hello, Pat!” Her brother stood on the threshold she had crossed. “Hello, people! I have been looking for you, Pat. I have been up to your room.” The two young people, absorbed in a saying of the Far East, did not answer. Patricia and Ralph stood with their backs to the sapphire ring and the maharajah’s red lacquer box and the pigskin purse. “The Maharajah of Singapore,” said Miss Hereford, “gave me wonderful lessons last year in Boston. All the girls were crazy about him. You read from left to right.” She pointed with her slender finger of the left hand on which the wedding ring would be very soon. “There like that, see: “‘To the Great Lover Honor and Dishonor’ on the first line; ‘Life and Death are in the hands of the Beloved’ on the second line.” The Scotch piper without, on the flawless lawn with his twenty-five astoundingly clean sheep, had decided to take his grazing herd farther along and had gone to the end of the park. From the distance they could hear the tune of his melancholic music as it came to them faintly as they stood there reading the rug. “And the gallant Earl of Moray he was the queen’s love.” “The Great Lover,” Ramsay repeated the words; they were fascinating. Oh, it was worth while in life to be a great lover! Ah, he could be it now for her--for her--for the woman he had kissed and held in his arms! “Mr. Rolland would like to speak to Miss Hereford in her room.”