had read the thought, "and had it fitted. Simple, wasn't it?"

"Oh," breathed Rose, "it's beautiful beyond words! How shall I ever
thank you!"

"Wear it, dear. I'm so glad you're pleased!"

"It's lovely," said Isabel, but the tone was cold and she seemed to
speak with an effort. With a swift little stab at the heart, Rose saw
that the girl envied her the gift.

"It reconciles me to my years," Rose went on, quickly. "I'm willing to
be forty, if I can have a ring like this."

"Why, Cousin Rose!" cried Isabel, in astonishment. "Are you forty?"

"Yes, dear. Don't be conventional and tell me I don't look it, for I
feel it--every year."

"I should never have thought it," Isabel murmured.

Rose turned the ring slowly upon her finger and the ruby yielded the
deep crimson glow of its heart to the candlelight that softly filled the
room. "I've never had a ruby," she said, "and yet I feel, someway, as
though I'd always had this. It seems as if it belonged to me."

"That's because it suits you," nodded Madame Bernard. "I hope that
sometime our civilisation may reach such a point of advancement that
every woman will wear the clothes and jewels that suit her personality,
and make her home a proper setting for herself. See how women break