"No," said Martin, "I want to give you what you'd like."
"I'd like what you'd like," said Maggie, still whispering.
At this banality the prophet made a little impatient movement as
though he really could not be expected to stand waiting there for
ever. Also a magnificent lady, in furs so rich that you could see
nothing of her but her powdered nose, was waving ropes of pearls
about in a blase manner very close to them, and Maggie had a
strange, entirely unreasonable fear that this splendour would
suddenly turn round and snatch the little pearl ring and go off with
it.
"I'd like that one," said Maggie, pointing. She heard the prophet
sniff his contempt, but she did not care.
Martin, although he would willingly have given her the most gorgeous
ring in the shop, was delighted to find that her taste was so good,
and like herself. He had great ideas about taste, some of his secret
fears had been lest her strange uncouth upbringing should have
caused her to like gaudy things. He could have hugged her before
them all when she chose that particular ring, which he had himself
noticed as the prettiest and neatest there.
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