“That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. She worried for Cathy, working double shifts at the nearby family restaurant to help make ends meet. "What is it?" "Can't you see? Together, down there; you and I!… As my wife! Both of us, never to be lonely again!… Will you marry me, Ruth?" As many a wiser woman had done, Ruth mistook thrilling eagerness for love. But I can easily bring in a sing-song girl to play for you. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting. ‘The poor girl was thrust into a convent to become a nun. I have written, called—of what avail is anything—against that look. She had told him, point blank, that since the Church had neither annulled the first marriage nor sanctified the second one, she was not his wife. He had something across his knees. She had dreaded the beginning of this hour.
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