So the next morning, having quite recovered his spirits, and almost
forgotten what he had said three days before to his host, he remarked to
himself, just as he finished dressing, "She has been a widow now rather
more than a year. The sooner I do it, the better."
He sat down to cogitate. It was not yet breakfast time. "Well," he said,
"she is a sweet creature. What would I have, I wonder!"
He took a little red morocco case from his pocket-book, and opened it.
"My father was exceedingly fond of her," he next said, "and nothing
would have pleased him better."
His father had inherited a very fine diamond ring from his old cousin,
and had been in the habit of wearing it. John, who never decked himself
in jewellery of any sort, had lately taken this ring to London, and left
it with his jeweller, to be altered so as to fit a lady's finger. He
intended it for his future wife.
It had just been sent back to him.
Some people say, "There are no fools like old fools." It might be said
with equal truth, there are no follies like the follies of a wise man.
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