I began to suspect the cause of this bitterness.

"Yes. She was there. And while some of this piano was going on she
looked at the ear of the man who was playing with a dreamy, tender
look.... No. I couldn't get a word with her the whole evening."

THE JOYS OF BEING ENGAGED

As I was passing the London University the other day I saw my uncle
emerge from the branch of the Bank of England opposite, and proceed in
the direction of the Burlington Arcade. He was elaborately disguised
as a young man, even to the youthful flower, and I was incontinently
smitten with curiosity respecting the dark purpose he might veil in
this way. There is, to me, a peculiar and possibly rather a childish
fascination in watching my more intimate friends unobserved, and,
curiously enough, I had never before studied the avuncular back view.
I found something singularly entertaining in the study of the graceful
contour of his new frock coat, and in the cheerful carriage of his
cane. He paraded, a dignified procession of one, some way down the
Arcade, hesitated for a moment outside a jeweller's shop, and then
entered it. I strolled on as far as Piccadilly, returned to the shop,
and so fell upon him suddenly in the midst of his buying.

"Hullo, George!" he said hastily, facing me so as to hide as much of
the counter as possible. "How's Euphemia?"

I looked him fairly in the eye. "You are buying a _ring_," I said in a
firm, decided voice.

He turned to the counter with an air of surprise. "By Jove, so I am!"

"A lady's ring," I said. He was, I could see, hastily collecting his
sufficiently nimble powers of subterfuge. "One must buy something, you
know, George, sometimes," he said feebly.

He had selected some dozen or so already, the most palpable engagement
rings I think I ever saw. One of them had visible on its inner
curvature the four letters MIZP--. He looked at them, saw the posy,
and then, glancing at me, laughed affably. "I meant to tell you
yesterday, George--I will take these," to the shopman. And we emerged
with a superficial amiability; the case of rings in my uncle's pocket.
The thing was rather a shock to me, coming so suddenly and
unexpectedly. I had anticipated some innocent purchase of the
jewellery he reviles so much, but certainly not significant rings,
golden fetters for others to wear and enslave him; and we were past the
flowershop towards Hyde Park before either of us spoke. It seemed so
dreadf