Love was joy, and joyous she was when alone. We have both tried hard to develop it—you and I —and we have failed. He was beginning to think about her inordinately. "Your faults were the faults of circumstances. No one had the resources or the inclination to rebuild them. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. Seeming to feel that this statement called for explanation, he added, ‘I been working for the sisters six month, see. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. It is not well that a daughter should talk to her father as Ruth talked to hers that day. Capes had the gift of easy, unaffected writing, coupled with very clear and logical thinking, and to follow his written thought gave her the sensation of cutting things with a perfectly new, perfectly sharp knife. I love my husband.
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