He turned. He had been the one to dress her in the finest silks and brocades, and here she was, displayed for the world to see in 248 drugstore makeup and the uniform of an old schoolteacher. Her mother had prepared her for everything. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. ‘Ah, no,’ Gerald uttered at once, lowering his voice and infusing it with all the promise he could command. To take Spring and Love out of her life, as if there were no human instincts to tell Ruth what was being denied her! And what must have been the man's thought as he came upon Ruth wearing a gown of her mother's? —a fair picture of the mother in the primrose days? Not a flicker of an eyelash; steel and granite outwardly. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming.
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