Atlantic Narratives

ially. She had been to him simply a sallow little figure in the background of Ruth's vivi

him, they were at least opening his eyes to the s

orne, he had a very different impression. She received him in the upstairs sitting-room to which her semi-invalid habits usually confined her. Wrapped in a

ale, narrow face; she might be a woman with a grievance, but he apprehended something beyond mere fretfulness in the discontent of her expressi

e you any objection to

your qualifications for the

e roots of his blond hair, 'that my prospects in life are fair. I am in my father's office, you know. I am to have a small share in the business next year. I needn't tel

y approve of t

lked to them

of your own earning, or have yo

t, which had a surprising way of proving,

-not e

ich you do not know that he approves; you have no resources of your own, and you are not even sure of your earning capacity if your father's backing were withdrawn. In these circumstances you

ce, ability, and comfortable wealth. It had not occurred to him to detach himself from that background and see how he looked when separated from it. He felt a little

horne, I don't t

iscomfiture. She even seemed a little

that a man should stand on his own feet, and firmly, before he undertakes to look after other lives than his own. Otherwi

k it is,' mutter

an that of the self-supporting woman-harder work, fewer rewards, less enjoyment, less security. That

red in the face, subdued, but eager to refute her out of the depths an

not my children, not my little girls!-It is curious, but that is how we always think of them. When they are grown they are often uncongenial. My daughter Ruth

y that his wife would never suffer? The woman opposite looked at him with hostile, accusin

h, her health, her life perhaps, certainly her individuality. She acquires the permanent possibility of self-sacrifice. She does it gladly, but she does not know what she is doing. In return, is it too much to ask that she be assured a roof over her head, food to her mouth, clothes to her body? How many men marry without being sure that they

!' said Oliver Pickersgill a

excited woman what he thought. There were things one didn't say, althou

is because Peter Lannithorne was a good man at heart, and tried to play the man's part as well as he knew how, and because it was partly my own f

ch excitement, with too great facility. He had the justified masculine distrust of feminine fluency as hysterical. Nothing so presented could carry full

to understand from all this. Do you f

the things she had been saying that she could no

im. If Ruth must marry, perhaps him as well as another. But she did not trust her own judgment, even of such hands, such eyes, and such a chin. Oh, if the girls would only believe h

I tell you, I pray Heaven none of them may marry-ever; but, just the same, they will! Go ask Peter Lannithorne if he thinks h

id Oliver with a certain emphasis on father. 'Perhaps he and I shall b