And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. “It’s a new phase in the life history,” he remarked. Her lips came together with an expression between contentment and the faintest shadow of a smile, her manner was one of quiet reserve, and behind this mask she was wildly discontented and eager for freedom and life. Doesn’t matter a bit to me. One of her duties, after she had been taught to read, had been to read aloud after breakfast and before going to bed. Passing thought. He smiled complacently.
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