There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. Presently you will see that I am right, and then you shall take your vacation over here, and we will be good comrades again. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. You want to think for a time, to be free for a time. Then perhaps it is Prudence?’ ‘Oh la la! That is not me at all.
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