The Maeve RingMaeve read poetry on park benches and smoked clove cigarettes like she had secrets. Her love arrived in the form of handwritten letters, always signed with only a first initial. They met once a week at the train station, always in passinga touch of hands, a hurried kiss, the promise of tomorrow. When they finally ran away together, she left only a note: "Some stories are not meant to be sensibleonly remembered." The Maeve Ring is a vintage treasure