‘Isn’t it rather dangerous, the way you drive?’ she asked him.
‘No, it isn’t dangerous,’ he said. And then, after a pause: ‘Don’t you like the yellow ring at all?’
It was a squarish topaz set in a frame of steel, or some other similar mineral, finely wrought.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I do like it. But why did you buy these rings?’
‘I wanted them. They are second-hand.’
‘You bought them for yourself?’
‘No. Rings look wrong on my hands.’
‘Why did you buy them then?’
‘I bought them to give to you.’