The Test of Courage May Come Later

The old woman said to me in a satisfied kind of way, A very fine ring indeed, a beautiful ring. Oh me, I once had such rings, plenty of them, and bracelets and earrings. But they have forgotten me now. Perhaps their grandfathers remember me, some of them. And she laughed, a harsh, croaking laugh. For she handed me back the ring with a certain suggestion of old-fashioned grace, which was not without its pathos. The police came and suggested that it had found its way to the drain. We descended. I hid my fine clothes, but I would not trust them with my beautiful ring. Now I know more of the drain

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