What do you think of the old tub?" "She's wonderful!" cried Ruth. She went across to the little window again, her back to Melusine. "Oh no—no! You say this to terrify me—to try me. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. Afterwards she hunted up the article in question, and it seemed to her quite delightfully written and argued. When she occupied, it, it was neatness itself; the little porch was overrun with creepers—the garden trim and exquisitely kept. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. “Compromise—and kindness.
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