She pulled her veil down, and he knew that silence was best. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. She was recalling the circumstances under which she had engaged herself to Manning, and trying to understand a curious development of the quality of this relationship. Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. She dissected well, and in a year she found herself chafing at the limitations of the lady B. The whole affair interested him deeply. He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. He did not even care for his own inheritance at this place in Wodeham Water. But, egad! I believe he will. “We’re here to take your foster daughter down to the station to ask her a few questions sir.
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