ignored. The mere idea of doing so would seem grotesque and impossible,
probably even shocking, to him. Men were odd, formal creatures, slaves
to precedent.

He must have time, it was the prerogative of the male; time to reveal
himself to her, to strut before her, to go through the solemn comedy of
proving to her, by the exhibition of his virtues and the careful
suppression of his defects, what had been clear to her from the first
instant, that here was her mate, the man nature had set apart for her.

He would begin by putting on a new suit of clothes and having his hair
cut.

She smiled. It was silly and tiresome, but it was funny.

"Will you show me your pictures, Mr. Winfield?" she asked.

"If you'd really care to see them. I'm afraid they're pretty bad."

"Exhibit A. Modesty," thought Ruth.

The journey had begun.




Chapter IV

Troubled Waters