The completest capitulation would not wipe out that trouble. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. He stood up and she ushered him out of the small room. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. Everything was very neat; it had evidently been straightened up and kept for her. She must be beautiful, but beauty is only the beginning. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. '—'They can't,' says I. And that would spoil it.
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