Ruth Enschede, Hartford, Conn. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. As she neared the bottom of the dip in Piccadilly she saw a woman approaching her from the opposite direction—a tall woman who at the first glance seemed altogether beautiful and fine. ’ She tossed her head. "Going to befuddle himself between now and dinner," was the comment of Prudence. THAMES DARRELL. It seems he does not inherit the title. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. .
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