She wished she had not stood up. S. 256 Lucy chose her words carefully. Marriage!—and no woman by to tell the child what it was! The shocks and disillusions she would have to meet unsuspectingly—and bitterly. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. “This is my way back to my side of the Park,” she said. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. It is not every sort of creature needs—these males. I do not wish to blow off a head, you understand. No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia.
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