"Say, sport--where'd you--get that--ring?"
"Why do you ask?"
"'Cause I want to know, I guess."
"Think you've seen it before?"
"Sport, I don't think--I know. I seen it many a time. I'd know it in a
million, sure."
"Where did you see it before?"
"On M'Ginnis's mitt. It useter belong t' Bud."
"Ah!" exclaimed Ravenslee, scowling down at the ring, "you make me wish
more than ever that I had throttled him a little harder."
"Where'd you get that ring, sport?" Soapy repeated.
"From Maggie Finlay's father!"
Soapy turned away to stare at the tomato cans again.
"Meanin'?" he enquired at last, hoarser than before.
"That once upon a time it belonged to--her."
"Sport," said Soapy after an interval, still staring at the pyramid of
cans, "I useter know her once, an' I've jest nacherally took a fancy t'
that ring; if fifty dollars'll buy it, they're yours--right now."
"It isn't mine," answered Ravenslee, still scowling at the ring which
he had drawn from his finger. "I'm on my way to take it to--its owner.
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