“That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. He swore when I tried to get it out with the ladle, and told me what it said. Night and day have been alike to me. Senior year started with a whimper. Sordid; but that was not Ruth's term for it; she had no precise commentary to offer. He too, when she had disappeared, called a carriage. "Mr. “Anna!” she repeated. “Really, I do not know why I should have doubted it. .
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