‘But then again, possibly not. The other was to go into business—into a photographer’s reception-room, for example, or a costumer’s or hat-shop. Youth! You denied me even that," said Ruth, her glance now flashing to her father. The temperature soared to one hundred degrees, sickeningly hot. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. “Tiffany’s?” He looked at her comically. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. E. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. The curtains which she had left drawn were open, and the electric lights were turned on.
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