"Certainly I'll forgive you, and now let us shake hands to show that we have made it up." Violette held out her right hand. "No," said Marcel, "one hand won't do for me, I must have both." Violette laughed and held out both. "That is better," said Marcel, putting his hand in his pocket and pulling out a lovely diamond ring which he very adroitly slipped on the fourth finger of her left hand, taking care to slip it past the joint. Violette drew back with a little scream. "How dare you take a mean advantage of me like that? You're a horrid man, I hate you," and suiting her action to her words she tried to pull it off. But the ring which Marcel had carefully selected to ensure its fitting tightly refused to budge, much to his delight. "I believe you selected a tight fitting ring on purpose," she said in an angry tone of voice, looking very cross and almost in tears. Marcel took his scolding with such a good-natured smile that Violette felt she would have to laugh if she stayed any longer, so rushing past him she ran to her father who was sitting down in an easy chair in the next room. "Father, just look at what Monsieur Marcel has done to me," and she held out a very pretty finger for his inspection. "That's a very charming ring he has given you," he replied with a knowing wink. "But, father, only think of his impudence in slipping the ring on my finger by a horrid ruse, without even asking my permission. I think it was a very mean trick to take advantage of me like that. Don't you agree with me?" "Well, to tell the truth I confess if I had been in his place I would have done exactly the same thing," and Beaupaire burst into a hearty laugh. "Father, I don't like you a bit, I think you are horrid. I don't want his ring," and she tried to pull it off once more. "Oh, this wretched ring how am I to get it off?" "Don't be a little goose, keep it on, my dear," and he took hold of her hand and patted it affectionately. "I admire Monsieur Marcel's taste. It is really a superb ring, and you ought to be very proud of it." Violette stamped her pretty foot on the floor. "Why do you always take Monsieur Marcel's part?" she asked with a little pout of vexation. "My dear child, I consider him to be a very charming man, clever, highly polished and accomplished, very affectionate, and moreover the possessor of a most respectable private income. Why, what more do you want? He is a man who would make a most desirable husband. Besides, I have every reason to believe that he sincerely loves you." "But, father, do you really mean it?" At this moment Marcel, who had been listening with his ear against the door, came in. Beaupaire came up and shook hands with him. "My boy, I could not wish for a better man for a son-in-law." "And I could not wish for a better lady for a wife than Violette," replied Marcel, his courage rising to undreamed-of heights.