She had, poor inexperienced fool, given herself away. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. ” “Yes, but men;” said Ann Veronica, plunging; “don’t you want the love of men?” For some seconds they remained silent, both shocked by this question. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. Meanwhile, the clergyman, bare-headed and in his surplice, advanced to meet them. From then on he was Ruth's dog. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. “Arthur, this is Miss Pellissier—Mr.
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