"You see?" Ruth said. “I was sick of the make-believe. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. . For a few moments, Thames regarded the little girl through the half-opened door in silence. Third period was Art, where they sat side by side at a table and carved linoleum for block prints together. " "So it seems," observed the woollen-draper, "and for every one else, too. We’re hard stuff!” Then she went on: “To think that is my father! Oh, my dear! He stood over me like a cliff; the thought of him nearly turned me aside from everything we have done. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky.
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