futurity, were creeping to a mind-path of understanding.

"Don't be absurd," she said coldly. "You know I won't ask him, and you
don't want him."

"I have always said that decision is the greatest of all qualities--even
when the decision is bad. It saves so much worry, and tends to health."
Suddenly he turned to the desk and opened a tin box. "Here is further
practice for your admirable gift." He opened a paper. "I want you to
sign off for this building--leaving it to my absolute disposal." He
spread the paper out before her.

She turned pale and her lips tightened. She looked at him squarely in
the eyes. "My wedding-gift!" she said. Then she shrugged her
shoulders. A moment she hesitated, and in that moment seemed to congeal.
"You need it?" she asked distantly.

He inclined his head, his eye never leaving hers. With a swift angry
motion she caught the glove from her left hand, and, doubling it back,
dragged it off. A smooth round ring came off with it and rolled upon the
floor.

Stooping, he picked up the ring, and handed it back to her, saying:
"Permit me." It was her wedding-ring. She took it with a curious
contracted look and put it on the finger again, then pulled off the other
glove quietly. "Of course one uses the pen with the right hand," she
said calmly.

"Involuntary act of memory," he rejoined slowly, as she took the pen in
her hand. "You had spoken of a wedding, this was a wedding-gift, and--