Yes, and a woman who really loves a man forgives him every thing." He was looking at her hands, which lay white, and warm, and glittering in her lap.

She was silent.
"What a superb ruby, Miss Grace! It might be a dew-drop from a pomegranate in Paradise." She smiled at the extravagant conceit, while he took her hand as he spoke, and admired the ring.

The white, warm hand remained passive in his.
"Let me come nearer to Paradise," he said, half-abstractedly, as if he were following his own thoughts, and he pressed his lips to the fingers upon which the ruby gleamed.
Miss Grace Plumer was almost frightened.

This was a very different performance from Mr.Sligo Moultrie's--very different from any she had known.

She felt as if she suggested, in some indescribable way, strange and beautiful thoughts to Abel Newt.