She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. She dived at once behind the cover of the lamproom and affected serious trouble with her shoe-lace until he was out of the station, and then she followed slowly and with extreme discretion until the bifurcation of the Avenue from the field way insured her escape. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. But though she lied about pretty much everything else, she didn’t lie about that. . His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched. “She has improved her style,” someone declared.
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