If we're
engaged, you know what it means. Marriage. If it doesn't mean that, then
I say we've no right to be engaged."
Marguerite seemed to recoil at the last words, but she recovered
herself. And then, heedless of being in a public place, she drew off her
glove, and drew the engagement ring from her finger, and held it out to
George. She could not speak. The gesture was her language. George was
extremely staggered. He was stupefied for an instant. Then he took the
ring, and under an uncontrollable savage impulse he threw it into the
river. He did not move for a considerable time, staring at the river in
front. Neither did she move. At length he said in a cold voice, without
moving his head:
"Here's Chelsea Pier."
She got up and walked to the rail amidships. He followed. The steamer
moored. A section of rail slid aside. The pier-keeper gave a hand to
Marguerite, who jumped on to the pier. George hesitated. The pier-keeper
challenged him testily:
"Now then, are ye coming ashore or aren't ye?"
George could not move. The pier-keeper banged the rail to close the gap,
and cast off the ropes, and the steamer resumed her voyage.
A minute later George saw Marguerite slowly crossing the gangway from
the pier to the embankment. There she went! She was about to be
swallowed up in the waste of human dwellings, in the measureless and
tragic expanse of the indifferent town.
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