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Locke, William John, 1863-1930

"Simon the Jester"


A maidservant brought in tea, set the table, and departed, Eleanor drew
off her gloves and my glance fell on her right hand.
"It's good of you to wear my ring to-day," I said.
"To-day?" she echoed, with the tiniest touch of injury in her voice. "Do
you think I put it on to just please you to-day?"
"It would have been gracious of you to do so," said I.
"It wouldn't," she declared. "It would have been mawkish and
sentimental. When we parted I told you to do what you liked with the
ring. Do you remember? You put it on this finger"--she waved her right
hand--"and there it has stayed ever since."
I caught the hand and touched it lightly with my lips. She coloured
faintly.
"Two lumps of sugar and no milk, I think that's right?" She handed me
the tea-cup.
"It's like you not to have forgotten."
"I'm a practical person," she replied with a laugh.
Presently she said, "Tell me more about your illness--or rather your
recovery. I know nothing except that you had a successful operation
which all the London surgeons said was impossible.


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