He proposed they should go down into the little copse on the right, where they would be less disturbed by the occasional passer by. Here, seated on a felled tree-trunk, Willoughby began that bantering silly meaningless form of conversation known among the “classes” as flirting. He had but the wish to make himself agreeable, and to while away the time. Esther, however, misunderstood him.
Willoughby’s hand lay palm downwards on his knee, and she noticing a ring which he wore on his little finger, took hold of it.
“What a funny ring!” she said; “let’s look?”
To disembarrass himself of her touch he pulled the ring off and gave it her to examine.
“What’s that ugly dark green stone?” she asked.
“It’s called a sardonyx.”
“What’s it for?” she said, turning it about.
“It’s a signet ring, to
