And with a kind
of a wistfulness he tried to see into the future here.
He gave a sudden start in his chair.
"By George!" he thought. "They forgot the ring!" Scowling, he tried to
remember. Yes, in the brief simple service that day, in which so much had
been omitted--music, flowers, wedding gown--even the ring had been left
out. Why? Not from any principle, he knew that they were not such fools.
No, they had simply forgotten it, in the haste of getting married at once.
Well, by thunder, for a girl whose father had been a collector of rings for
the best part of his natural life, it was pretty shabby to say the least!
Then he recollected that he, too, had forgotten it. And this quieted him
immediately.
"I'll get one, though," he promised himself. "And no plain wedding ring
either. I'll make A. Baird attend to that. No, I'll get her a ring worth
while."
He sank deep in his chair and took peace to his soul by thinking of the
ring he would choose. And this carried his thoughts back over the years.
For there had been so many rings....
CHAPTER XXXVIII
It was a clear beautiful afternoon toward the end of May. And as the train
puffing up the grade wound along the Connecticut River, Roger sat looking
out of the window. The orchards were pink and white on the hills. Slowly
the day wore away. The river narrowed, the hills reared high, and in the
sloping meadows gray ribs and shoulders of granite appeared.
Pages:
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328