Finally, after an age, Jones and Eleanor turned, still close in talk, still solemn and enigmatical, and drew toward us very slowly and deliberately.  When they bad got quite close, and the tension was at the breaking point, Eleanor suddenly made a little rush, and, with a loud sob, threw her arms round Freddy’s neck.

Jones fidgeted nervously about, and seemed to quail under my questioning eyes.  It was impossible to tell whether things had gone right or not.  I waited for him to speak . . .  I saw words forming themselves hesitatingly on his lips . . . he bent toward me quite confidentially.

“Say, old man,” he whispered, “is there any place around here where a fellow can buy an engagement ring?”