He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. "I never saw the like of you! One has to guard one's actions constantly in this wicked world, if one is a woman, young and pretty. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. “To tell you the truth, it has seemed just lately as though we were becoming in some measure estranged. ” “I wonder,” he said, a trifle irrelevantly, “what the future has in store for you. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul.
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