ribboned muslin. And the picture appealed to him very strongly. And Ruth
appeared to him in a new light. It was perhaps the change in her voice
that did it. She appeared to him at once as a creature very feminine and
enchanting, and as a creature who could earn her own living in a manner
that was both original and ladylike. A woman such as Ruth would be a
delight without being a drag. And, truly, was she not a remarkable
woman, as remarkable as he was a man? Here she was living amid the
refinements of luxury. Not an expensive luxury (he had an excellent
notion of the monetary value of things), but still luxury. And the whole
affair was so stylish. His heart went out to the stylish.

The slices of bread-and-butter were rolled up. There, now, was a
pleasing device! It cost nothing to roll up a slice of bread-and-butter
--her fingers had doubtless done the rolling--and yet it gave quite a
different taste to the food.

"What made you give that house to Mrs Hullins?" she asked him suddenly,
with a candour that seemed to demand candour.

"Oh," he said, "just a lark! I thought I would. It came to me all in a
second, and I did."

She shook her head. "Strange boy!" she observed.

There was a pause.

"It was something Charlie Fearns said, wasn't it?" she inquired.

She uttered the name "Charlie Fearns" with a certain faint hint of
disdain, as if indicating to Denry that of course she and Denry were