She got in, and they set out.

Abner tried to open a conversation, but he found Miss Deborah strangely unsocial.

She appeared to take no interest in the details of farm work of which he spoke.
"Something's on her mind, I guess," thought Abner; and, as we know, he was right.
In her hand Deborah clutched the ring, of whose genuineness she had come to entertain such painful doubts.

It might be genuine, she tried to hope, even if it came from an impostor; but her hope was small.

She felt a presentiment that it would prove as false as the man from whom she received it.