“I have stood it for a month, Anna,” he exclaimed. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. ] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room.
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