With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. He had sold half a dozen short tales to thirdrate magazines; but this letter had been issued from a distinguished editorial room, of international reputation. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. Ice had begun to form in the shallows. Depend upon it, there is a place for you—waiting. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. Miss Stanley had determined from the outset to have the warmest affection for her youngest niece and to be a second mother in her life—a second and a better one; but she had found much to battle with, and there was much in herself that Ann Veronica failed to understand.
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