"To marry him."
"Oh, no; that's off."
"Is it off?" cried Teerswell delightedly. "Good! It was foolish from the
first--that black country--"
"Gently," Miss Wynn checked him. "I'm not yet over the habit."
"Come. See what I've bought. You know I have a salary now." He produced
a ring with a small diamond cluster.
"How pretty!" she said, taking it and looking at it. Then she handed it
back.
He laughed gayly. "It's yours, Carrie. You're going to marry me."
She looked at him queerly.
"Am I? But I've got another ring already," she said.
"Oh, send Alwyn's back."
"I have. This is still another." And uncovering her hand she showed a
ring with a large and beautiful diamond.
He rose. "Whose is that?" he demanded apprehensively.
"Mine--" her eyes met his.
"But who gave it to you?"
"Mr. Stillings," was the soft reply.
He stared at her helplessly. "I--I--don't understand!" he stammered.
"Well, to be brief, I'm engaged to Mr. Stillings."
"What! To that flat-headed--"
"No," she coolly interrupted, "to the Register of the Treasury."
The man was too dumbfounded, too overwhelmed for coherent speech.
"But--but--come; why in God's name--will you throw yourself away on--on
such a--you're joking--you--"
She motioned him to a chair. He obeyed like one in a trance.
"Now, Tom, be calm.
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