“What are you doing?” he asked. To Ruth came that of the great world, her lawful lover at her side; and there would be glorious books into each of which he would unconsciously put a little of her soul along with his own, needing her always. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of ingenuèe and altered my whole style of dress. Ann Veronica found herself incompetent, undignified, and detestable, holding on desperately to a hardening antagonism to her father, quarrelling with him, wrangling with him, thinking of repartees—almost as if he was a brother. " "But that's the point—I don't know. He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. " "What does it signify?" returned the latter, angrily. .
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