He looked at the red-glinting, soft stone, on her over-sensitive skin.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘But opals are unlucky, aren’t they?’ she said wistfully.

‘No. I prefer unlucky things. Luck is vulgar. Who wants what LUCK would bring? I don’t.’

‘But why?’ she laughed.

And, consumed with a desire to see how the other rings would look on her hand, she put them on her little finger.

‘They can be made a little bigger,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she replied, doubtfully. And she sighed. She knew that, in accepting the rings, she was accepting a pledge.