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Reed, Myrtle, 1874-1911

"Old Rose and Silver"


He took it with a smile. "Thank you. I don't know that I shall ever use
it again, but I am glad to have it."
There was a pause and Isabel moved restlessly in her chair. Then she
slipped the ring from her finger. "Do you want this now?" she asked. Her
face was a shade paler.
Allison laughed. "Indeed I don't. Whom could I give it to?"
"Rose," suggested Isabel, maliciously.
Allison sighed and turned his face away. "She wouldn't take it," he
said, sadly.
Isabel slipped it back on her finger, evidently relieved. "I'm glad
you're better," she went on, clearing her throat.
"Thank you. So am I."
"I saw your father, out in the car. The Doctor was with him."
"Yes. They're coming back for me in a little while."
"It's a lovely car. The Doctor brought me home in it last night, from
Crosby's."
"So he told me." Allison did not see fit to say just how much Doctor
Jack had told him. He smiled a little at the recollection of the young
man's remorseful confession.
"I told them," continued Isabel, "that I thought it was mine--that your
father had given it to me, but it seems I was mistaken.


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