“John?” He turned around in the recliner. “Don’t you understand? It is I whom you cared for in Paris, not Anna. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. “You have dyed your hair and darkened your eyebrows. How plainly he could see the patch of garden in the summer sunshine and the white hollyhocks nodding above the picket fence! ***** Ruth sat waiting for the half hour, subconsciously. I called myself Anna. It was not the arrival of the guests, but merely the maid moving about in the hall.
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