He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. She and Courtlaw drove homewards together. He yelled to her, asking her if she wished to have a drink with him, which she refused. That would not help her. My sister was scarcely likely to make a mistake. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt.
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