Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts. She pointed suddenly at the portrait. Bit priggish, isn’t it? And if he only knew it—so absurd. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. “What I am after is that beauty isn’t a special inserted sort of thing; that’s my idea. The pistol was his own, it is true, but it was one which was taken from him when he forced his way in upon me before.
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