The sparkle caught my eye. Green stone, gold hoop, the unfamiliar presence of my engagement ring snagged in the rags. I held my left hand out straight and admired the token of his affection. Tiny rainbows danced in the gaslight. My romantic heart was at war with my practical nature. I wanted to know why Mr. Jones-Smyth, Chester, had dashed off as if seeking the retiring room. Surely I was not that repulsive. Perhaps he was also a virgin and shamed of his quick release. I gazed into the gem like a carnival fortuneteller; the unblinking eye had no answer.

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