A girl—at my age—is grown-up. “Forgive me,” he said, “but I want to hear it from your sister. He would repeat them innumerable times, and patiently Ruth would repeat her answers. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. “I have not the least idea who he is. She was dressed in one of those complicated dresses that are all lace and work and confused patternings of black and purple and cream about the body, and she was in many ways a younger feminine version of the same theme as himself.
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