th the
place. Of course I wanted something small, as our luggage isn't of the
expanding order, so I had the idea of jewellery; a little antique
pendant, or a few old paste buttons. There is a certain shop in the
"Rows" where one looks for such things, and expects to find them good,
if highly priced. In the window of that shop I saw displayed for sale
the ring I had given to Ellaline!

The sight of it there was a blow; but I persuaded myself I might be
mistaken; that it wasn't the same ring, but another, almost a duplicate.
I went in and asked to look at it. The shopman mentioned that it was
something quite unusually good, and had "only come in" that afternoon.
Inside I found the date which I had had engraved on the ring; the date
of Ellaline's birthday. I bought it back--for a good deal more than I
paid in Winchester, as this chap knew his business thoroughly; but that
is a detail. It was merely to satisfy a kind of sentimental vanity that
I wanted to get the thing out of the window and into my own hands; for,
needless to say, I don't intend to speak of the matter at all to
Ellaline. It would humiliate me more than it would her, to let her see
that I know what she did with her birthday present; for partly, I blame
myself. I supposed that I was fairly free-handed with money, and had no
idea that the girl could possibly want more than she had. Still, I told
her to let me know in case she found me thoughtless, and not to hesitate
to ask for anything she wanted. She could have had as much as she chose,
and I would have put no questions. If I'd been surprised with the
largeness of the sums, I should have believed that she had some
pensioners to whom she wished to be charitable; for I had begun to
believe that she could do no wrong.

As I said, there was nothing culpable in selling the ring. It was hers.
She had a right to do as she liked with it. But that she should like to
part with it; that she should do so, knowing I would hate it if I knew;
that she should be exactly the same with me as if she hadn't done a
thing which she was aware would distress me; that she hadn't the courage
and frankness to come to me and say----

Oh, hang it all, I'm grumbling and complaining like an old prig! Perhaps
I am one. I know Dick Burden thinks so. We'll let it go at that. I don't
need to explain to you a matter which outwardly is insignificant, and is
significant to me only for reasons which the past will account for to
you better than