tray her
emotion, and examined the ring with a forced smile.

"Diamonds for your eyes, rubies for your lips," she said softly. "A very
pretty fancy."

Daisy was annoyed. She would rather that Anne had betrayed herself by
some rude speech, or at least by a discomposed manner. To make her heart
ache Daisy had come, and from all she could see she had not
accomplished her aim. However, she still tried to wring some sign of
emotion from the expression or lips of the calm governess.

"Giles promised me a ring over and over again," she said, her eyes fixed
on Anne. "We have been engaged for over six months. He asked me just
before you came, although it was always an understood thing. His father
and mine arranged the engagement, you know. I didn't like the idea at
first, as I wanted to make my own choice. Every girl should, I think.
Don't you?"

"Certainly," Anne forced herself to say, "but you love Mr. Ware."

Daisy nodded. "Very, very much," she assented emphatically. "I must have
loved him without knowing it, but I was only certain when he asked me to
marry him. How lucky it is he has to make me his wife!" she sighed. "If
he were not bound----" Here she stopped suddenly, and looked into the
other woman's eyes.

"What nonsense!" said Anne good-humoredly, and more composed than ever.
"Mr. Ware loves you dearly. You are the one woman he would choose for
his wife. There is no compulsion about his choice, my dear."

"Do you really think so?" demanded the girl feverishly. "I thought--it
was the ring, you know."

"What do you mean, Daisy?"

"He never would give me the ring, although I said it was ridiculous for
a girl to be engaged without one. He always made some excuse, and only
to-night---- But I have him safe now," she added, with a fierce
abruptness, "and I'll keep him."

"Nobody wants to take him from you, dear."

"Do you really think so?" said Miss Kent again. "Then why did he delay
giving me the ring?"

Anne knew well enough. After her first three meetings with Giles she had
seen the love light in his eyes, and his reluctance to bind himself
irrevocably with the ring was due to a hope that something might happen
to permit his choosing for himself. But nothing had happened, the age of
miracles being past, and the vow to his dead father bound him. Therefore
on this very night he had locked his shackles and had thrown away the
key. Anne had made it plain to him that she could not, nor would she,
help him to pla