" "Well," said Sister Prudence, "remember, I tried to save you some future heartaches. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. I shall now be able to test my skill. You have set out to do something which is neither God's way nor man's. She heard the television blaring away. ’ Colour suffused the man’s face. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. A victim of one of those mental typhoons that scatter irretrievably the barriers of instinct and breeding; and he had gone on the rocks all in a moment. He wondered if, after all, McClintock wasn't nearest the truth, that Ruth was one of those unfortunate yet innocent women who make havoc with the hearts of men. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. Listen. For what indeed does she do? A simple song, no gesture, no acting, nothing.
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