The noise of Mr. Wone’s retreating steps was still audible when Luke returned to the stone in the middle of Splash Lane. The sky was clear now and a faint whitish glimmer, shining on the worn surface of the stone, revealed the two deep holes in it, where the fastenings of the chain had hung. The young man tapped the stone with his stick and gave a low whistle. An amorphous heap of clothes, huddled in the hedge, stirred, and emitted a reproachful sound. “Oh, you’re there, are you?” he said. “What silly nonsense is this? Get up! Let’s see your face!” He stooped and pulled at the object. After a moment’s struggle the flexible form of a young girl emerged into the light. She held down her head and appeared sulky and angry. “What’s the matter, Annie?” whispered the youth encircling her with his arms. The girl shook him away. “How could you tell Miss Seldom who I was!” she murmured. “How could you do it, Luke? If it had been anybody else--but for her to know----” The stone-carver laughed. “Really, child, you are too ridiculous! Why, on earth, shouldn’t she know, more than anyone else?” The girl looked fiercely at him. “Because she is good,” she said. “Because she is the only good person in this blasted place!” The young man showed no astonishment at this outburst. “Come on, darling,” he rejoined. “We must be getting you home. I daresay, Miss Seldom is all you think. It seemed to me, though, that she was different from usual tonight. But I expect that fool had upset her.” He let the young girl lean for a moment against the shadowy stone while he fumbled for his cigarettes and matches. He observed her make a quick movement with her hands. “What are you up to now?” he asked. She gave a fierce little laugh. “There!” she cried. “I have done it!” “What have you done?” he enquired, emitting a puff of smoke, and throwing the lighted match into the hedge. She pressed her hands against the stone and looked up at him mischievously and triumphantly. “Look!” she said, holding out her fingers in the darkness. He surveyed her closely. “What is it? Have you scratched yourself?” “Light a match and see!” she cried. He lit a match and examined the hand she held towards him. “You have thrown away that ring!” “Not _thrown_ it away, Luke; not thrown it away! I have pressed it down into this hole. You can’t get it out now! Nobody never can!” He held the flickering match closely against the stone’s surface. In the narrow darkness of the aperture she indicated, something bright glittered. “But this is really annoying of you, Annie,” said the stone-carver. “I told you that ring was only lent to me. She’ll be asking for it back tomorrow.” “Well, you can tell her to come here and get it!” “But this is really serious,” protested Luke, trying in vain to reach the object with his outstretched fingers. “And I have twisted my hair round it!” the girl went on, in exulting excitement, “I have twisted it tight around. It will be hard to get it off!”