still quivering a little. "Yes, I
know," she spluttered, her face in the water; "he is that way
when--after we've quarrelled."

"I didn't know you and Deane ever did quarrel," ventured Mrs. Holland.
"When you do, I'll warrant it's your fault." She added, significantly:
"Deane's mighty good to you, Ruth." She had said several things like
that of late.

"Oh, he's good enough," murmured Ruth from the folds of the towel.

"Now, powder up a little, dear. There! And now just take it a little
easy. Why, it's not a hit like you to be so----touchy."

She followed Ruth downstairs. "Got that letter?" the grandfather called
out from his room.

"I'll send Ted with it, father," Mrs. Holland said hastily, seeing
Ruth's face.

A sudden surge of love for her mother almost swept away Ruth's
self-command. It was wonderful that some one wanted to help her. It made
her want to cry.

Her mother went with her to the porch. "You look so nice," she said
soothingly. "Have a good time, dearie."

Ruth waved her hand without turning her face to her mother.

Tears were right there close all through that evening. The strain within
was so great--(what _was_ she going to do about Deane?)--that there was
that impulse to cry at the slightest friendliness. She was flushed and
tired when she reached Edith's, and Mrs. Lawrence herself went out and
got her a glass of water--a fan, drew up a comfortable chair. The whole
house seemed so kindly, so favoring. Contrasted with her secret turmoil
the reposefulness, friendliness of the place was so beautiful to her
that taut emotions were ready to give. Yet all the while there was that
inner distress about how to get away, what to say. The affectionate
kindness of her friends, the appeal of their well-ordered lives as
something in which to rest, simply had no reach into the thing that
dominated her.

And now finally she had managed it; Deane had come before she could
possibly get away but she had said she would have to go up to
Harriett's, that she must not be too late about it. Edith had protested,
disappointed at her leaving so early, wanting to know if she couldn't
come back. That waved down, there had been a moment of fearing Edith was
going to propose going with her; so she had quickly spoken of there
being something Harriett wanted to talk to her about. She had a warm,
gentle feeling for Edith when finally she saw the way clearing. That was
the way it was, gratitude to one who had moved out of he