"I had rather that you should have it," said Leonore. "I want you to
have my luck."
"I shall have it just the same even after I've given it to you," said
Peter.
"How?"
"I'm going to have it made into a plain gold ring," replied Peter, "and
when I give it to you, I shall have all your luck."
Then came a silence.
Finally Peter said, "Will you please tell me what you meant by talking
about five years!"
"Oh! Really, Peter," Leonore hastened to explain, in an anxious way, as
if Peter had charged her with murder or some other heinous crime. "I did
think so. I didn't find it out till--till that night. Really! Won't you
believe me?"
Peter smiled. He could have believed anything.
"Now," he said, "I know at last what Anarchists are for."
His ready acceptance of her statement made Leonore feel a slight prick
of conscience. She said: "Well--Peter--I mean--that is--at least, I did
sometimes think before then--that when I married, I'd marry you--but I
didn't think it would come so soon.
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