"You're an ungrateful wife," I said, "after all the trouble I took. Now
look there," and I pointed with a pencil, "what's the first thing you see?"
"Twenty-two. That's only the----"
"That was your age when you married me. I had it put in at enormous
expense. If you had been eighteen, the man said, or--or nine, it would have
come much cheaper. But no, I would have your exact age. You were
twenty-two, and that's what I had engraved on it. Very well. Now what do
you see next to it?"
"A crown."
"Yes. And what does that mean? In the language of--er--crowns it means 'You
are my queen.' I insisted on a crown. It would have been cheaper to have
had a lion, which means--er--lions, but I was determined not to spare
myself. For I thought," I went on pathetically, "I quite thought you would
like a crown."
"Oh, I do," cried Celia quickly, "if it really means that." She took the
ring in her hands and looked at it lovingly. "And what's that there? Sort
of a man's head."