“I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. “Suppose, for example, I go to this dance?” “You won’t. " "Alas! that one so highly born should submit to such a degradation?" groaned the knight. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. The wall of the sky, the wall of the horizon, the wall behind which each human being hid—the wall behind which she herself was hiding! If only her mother had lived, her darling mother! Presently the unhappy puzzlement left her face; and an inward glow began to lighten it. Officers were these. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves.
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