erbert Calvert, all the same."

And as he walked slowly home Denry pondered upon the singular, erratic,
incalculable strangeness of woman, and of the possibly magic effect of
his own personality on women.

II

It was the next afternoon, in July. Denry wore his new summer suit, but
with a necktie of higher rank than the previous day's. As for Ruth, that
plain but piquant girl was in one of her more elaborate and foamier
costumes. The wonder was that such a costume could survive even for an
hour the smuts that lend continual interest and excitement to the
atmosphere of Bursley. It was a white muslin, spotted with spots of
opaque white, and founded on something pink. Denry imagined that he had
seen parts of it before--at the ball; and he had; but it was now a
tea-gown, with long, languishing sleeves; the waves of it broke at her
shoulders, sending lacy surf high up the precipices of Ruth's neck.
Denry did not know it was a tea-gown. But he knew that it had a most
peculiar and agreeable effect on himself, and that she had promised him
tea. He was glad that he had paid her the homage of his best necktie.

Although the month was July, Ruth wore a kind of shawl over the
tea-gown. It was not a shawl, Denry noted; it was merely about two yards
of very thin muslin. He puzzled himself as to its purpose. It could not
be for warmth, for it would not have helped to melt an icicle. Could it
be meant to fulfil the same function as muslin in a confectioner's shop?
She was pale. Her voice was weak and had an imploring quality.

She led him, not into the inhospitable wooden academy, but into a very
small room which, like herself, was dressed in muslin and bows of
ribbon. Photographs of amiable men and women decorated the pinkish-green
walls. The mantelpiece was concealed in drapery as though it had been a
sin. A writing-desk as green as a leaf stood carelessly in one corner;
on the desk a vase containing some Cape gooseberries. In the middle of
the room a small table, on the table a spirit-lamp in full blast, and on
the lamp a kettle practising scales; a tray occupied the remainder of
the table. There were two easy chairs; Ruth sank delicately into one,
and Denry took the other with precautions.

He was nervous. Nothing equals muslin for imparting nervousness to the
naive. But he felt pleased.

"Not much of the Widow Hullins touch about this!" he reflected
privately.

And he wished that all rent-collecting might be done with su