And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. ‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. She was quite tired of the stream of visitors and heard with relief the words of her newfound great-aunt, addressed to her son’s butler. A woman indeed this to love and be loved, beautiful, graceful, gay. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. That ring manifestly occupied her thoughts a great deal. ” He contradicted himself by plunging into an exposition of motifs. Why should God give particular attention to such a prayer, when He had ignored all others? Certainly there was a trap somewhere.
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