“Think of what people will say!” That became a refrain. But then, because my papa had no money, you understand, he sent me to a convent. Gosse! Dieu du ciel, but how did he get into the convent? She had perforce to obey his command, for speech was impossible. His little doll. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. She taught him all the lore she had; about bird-life and tree-life and the changing mysteries of the sea.
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