“I’m not senile, Angie!” the woman cried. “This is the driver who kicked me off the bus and into the snowstorm and told me I was a con artist!”
Angelica turned to look at George and her face was deadly pale.
“You did this?” she asked.
“Look, Angie,” George said. “I was late and I didn’t know it was your grandmother…” The words choked in his dry mouth. Angelica was looking at him as if he was a stranger.
Then she pulled the ring off her finger.
“Here,” she said, handing him the ring. “Take it back. I don’t even know who you are.
I won’t marry you.”
George cried and knelt at her feet. He begged for her forgiveness, but nothing he could do or say made her change her mind. George was old news, and as he walked out of that house into the snow, he knew he had lost her because he just wasn’t good enough for her.
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