“You are the most perfect, the most glorious of created things—tender, frank intellectual, brave, beautiful. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. The particulars of her engagement were very clear in her memory. No, no! Not now!" Ruth turned abruptly and walked toward the bungalow, mounted the veranda steps, and vanished within. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. Through yet another doorway she observed an ancient silk brocade loom. 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. Anna sprang to her feet and made for the dressing-room door. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter.
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