And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. She was still good at following orders. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. “This is the slavery of the veiled life. A few days ago I saw him leave your house. Michelle tossed her hair like a young colt flicking its tail. I do not believe that there has ever lived a really great actress whose moral character from the ordinary point of view would bear inspection. A tall, clean-shaven man came out and walked rapidly through the room, exchanging greetings right and left, but evidently anxious to avoid being detained.
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