Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. Besides, it was under false pretences. The image of Major Alderley came into her mind. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. Marvel, therefore, remained on his probation. She was perhaps three-and-twenty, and very pink and healthy-looking, showing a great deal of white and rounded neck above her business-like but altogether feminine blouse, and a good deal of plump, gesticulating forearm out of her short sleeve. I had a perfect shoal of callers. . . .
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