White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. Ah! but you can’t imagine what you are to me and what you mean to me! I suppose there is something mystical and wonderful about all women. . ’ ‘You would speak of the house?’ ‘Many’s the time little Miss Mary would say her papa meant for her to have it, she having no brothers and sisters at all—when we played together I mean, she and me and Joan Pottiswick. When you reach San Francisco, you can buy something more appropriate. ’ Gerald ignored this. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand.
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