ld-school, sweet and chivalrous as can be toward women, but he
can't treat Ruth in the way he does that helpless little miniature of a
mother of his. He simply lives to protect her from anything practical or
disagreeable. She adores it, but Ruth's a different proposition. The
trouble with Robert is, he's about ten years behind the times."

"And Ruth," commented Will, "is about ten years ahead of the times."

"That is true of the different members of lots of households, in these
times, but they don't need to come to blows because of it. Everybody
ought to be patient and wait. Ruth has a pronounced individuality, for
all you think she is nothing but a society butterfly. I can see it hurts
to cram it into Robert Jennings' ideal of what a woman should be. It
makes me feel badly to see Ruth so quiet and resigned, like a little
beaten thing, so pitiably anxious to please. Self-confidence became her
more. She hasn't mentioned suffrage since Robert called and stayed so
late Wednesday, except to say briefly, 'I'm not going to march in the
parade.' 'Why not?' I asked. 'Doesn't Bob want you to?' 'Oh, certainly.
He leaves it to me,' she pretended proudly. 'But, you see, women in
parades do offend some people. It isn't according to tradition, and I
think it's only courteous to Bob, just before we are to be married, not
to do anything offensive. After all, I must bear in mind,' she said,
'that this parade is only a matter of walking--putting one foot in front
of the other. I'm bound to be happy, and I don't intend to allow
suffrage to stand in my way either. Even convictions are only a certain
condition of gray matter.' Oh, it was just pitiful to hear her trying to
convince herself. I'm just afraid, Will, afraid for the future."

Not long after that outburst of mine to Will, my fears came true. One
late afternoon, white-faced, wide-eyed, Ruth came in to me. She closed
the door behind her. Her outside things were still on. I saw Robert
Jennings out the window going slowly down the walk. Before Ruth spoke I
knew exactly what she had to say.

"We aren't going to be married," she half whispered to me.

"Oh, Ruth----"

"No. Please. Don't, don't talk about it," she said. "And don't tell
Will. Don't tell any one. Promise me. I've tried so hard--so hard. But
my life has spoiled me for a man like Bob. Don't talk of it, please."

"I won't, Ruth," I assured her.

"I can do it. I thought I couldn't at first. But I _can_!" she said
fierce