He bowed over them with the grave air of the days of powdered wigs.

There was not a particle of irony in the movement; rather it was a quiet acknowledgment that he recollected the good influence she had at times worked upon him in some dark days.

As he brushed her fingers with his lips, he saw.

His head came up quickly.
"Ah!" "Yes." Her voice was steady and her eyes were brave.
He drew her to the lamp and studied the ring.

The ruddy lights dartled as he slowly turned the jewel around.
"It is a beauty.