We were worried. S. Beauty doesn’t mean, never has meant, anything—anything at all but you. I am going up to dine with my sister. It is the worst of talk under such social circumstances that it is always getting cut off so soon as it is beginning; and I went home that afternoon feeling I had said nothing—literally nothing—of the things I had meant to say to you and that were coursing through my head. “My dear Anna! As though I should think of depressing you with my long list of misdeeds. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. ” Anna was thoughtful. Ruth could not be told now. That is what marriage is to most young women: the ultimate escape from the family, from the unwritten laws that govern children.
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