“I don’t understand this foolishness,” she said, fretfully, as she released herself from his encircling arm.  “It’s damp and chilly out here, and I’ll get wet and take cold.”

“It isn’t damp, darling, and you can’t take cold.  Why didn’t you wear the spangles?”

“Do you suppose I want to spoil my best gown dragging it through the wet grass?”

“The grass isn’t wet, and, anyhow, you haven’t been on it—­only on the path.  Come over here to the bench and sit down.”

“I don’t want to.  I want to go in.”

“All right, but not just yet.  I’ll carry you, if you’re afraid of dampness.”  Before she could protest, he had picked her up and laughingly seated her on the bench at the edge of the lily-pool.

Isabel smoothed her rumpled hair.  “You’ve mussed me all up,” she complained.  “Why can’t we go in?  Aunt Francesca and Rose are upstairs.”

“Listen, sweetheart.  Please be patient with me just a minute, won’t you?  I’ve brought you your engagement ring.”

“Oh,” cried Isabel, delightedly.  “Let me see it!”

“I want to tell you about it first.  You remember, don’t you, that the first night I came here, you were wearing a big silver pin—­a turquoise matrix, set in dull silver?”

“I’ve forgotten.”

“Well, I haven’t.  Someway, it seemed to suit you as jewels seldom suit anybody, and you had it on the other night when you promised to marry me.  Both times you were wearing the spangled gown, and that’s why I asked for it to-night, and why I’ve had your engagement ring made of a turquoise.”

Isabel murmured inarticulately, but he went on, heedlessly:  “It’s made of silver because you’re my Silver Girl, the design is all roses because it was in the time of roses, and it’s a turquoise for reasons I’ve told you.  Our initials and the date are inside.”

Allison slipped it on her finger and struck a match that she might see it plainly.  Isabel turned it on her finger listlessly.

“Very pretty,” she said, in a small, thin voice, after an awkward pause.

“Why, dearest,” he cried, “don’t you like it?”

“It’s well enough,” she answered, slowly, “but not for an engagement ring.  Everybody else has diamonds.  I thought you cared enough for me to give me a diamond,” she said, reproachfully.

“I do,” he assured her, “and you shall have diamonds—­as many as I can give you.  Why, sweet, this is only the beginning.  There’s a long life ahead of us, isn’t there?  Do you think I’m never going to give my wife any jewels?”

“Aunt Francesca and Rose put you up to this,” said Isabel, bitterly.  “They never want me to have anything.”

“They know nothing whatever about it,” he replied, rather coldly, taking it from her finger as he spoke.  “Listen, Isabel.  Would you rather have a diamond in your engagement ring?”

“Of course.  I’d be ashamed to have anybody know that this was my engagement ring.”