So Ruth returned to her room and sorted the books and magazines the doctor had loaned her, inspected the titles and searched for pictures. She would always be waiting upon this boy, he mused. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. And every day's experience proves that I was right. You’re dealing with me now, not Gerald. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks.
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