CHAPTER VI. THE GARDEN
Miss Thorne wrote an apology to Winfield, and then tore it up, thereby gaining comparative peace of mind, for, with some natures, expression is the main thing, and direction is but secondary. She was not surprised because he did not come; on the contrary, she had rather expected to be left to her own devices for a time, but one afternoon she dressed with unusual care and sat in state in the parlour, vaguely expectant. If he intended to be friendly, it was certainly time for him to come again.
Hepsey, passing through the hall, noted the crisp white ribbon at her throat and the bow in her hair. “Are you expectin' company, Miss Thorne?” she asked, innocently.
“ I am expecting no one,” answered Ruth, frigidly, “I am going out.”
Feeling obliged to make her word goo
