Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. I'll call it my wedding gift. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. “Well, you have thought it over?” he said, sitting down beside her. The flush deck was without wells. Then, presto! What a dreary lot they are when the revellers lay aside the motley! Ruth had come from a far South Sea isle. Despite him, it was the beauty that she had inherited from her mother they had used to gain the betrothal, and it had not been easy. She looked at him mournfully.
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