“I wish you didn’t. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. " Out of nowhere Ruth heard her voice saying: "I will see to that. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. But this I cannot do. Somehow to-night—I don’t know. 192 Her skirt had ridden almost to her hips. ‘Odds were against it.
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