distance as she spoke, but now she turned her eyes full upon her hostess.
"I have known of marriages like that," she said, "and they have been perfect; perfect, such as your marriage to Mr. Westgate never could have been; such as your marriage, some day, to some other man must be, for you deserve it, and you must have it. A woman who loses an experience like that loses the better part of her life."
She spoke with such intense earnestness that her listener was startled, and hardly knew how to reply. There was a moment's pause and then Ruth said, feeling even while she said it that she was saying the wrong thing:
"I suppose your own experience as a wife leads you to say that, Mrs. Bradley."
"My own experience? Oh, no! My own marriage was a very commonplace affair. People who are as poor as we were, always hard at work, straining to make both ends meet, have little time for love-making. Besides, my husband was not a man for any woman to idolize."
If Ruth was surprised at this frank avowal, she succeeded in concealing her surprise. It occurred to her that possibly the woman was primitive, and that her finer sensibilities had not yet been fully developed. But that she was genuine and well-intentioned there could be no doubt.
"That was unfortunate," replied Ruth. "Every marriage should have for its basis mutual and whole-souled affection."
"Yes. That is true. I neither received it, nor had it. And I feel, somehow—it was my fault of course, for I didn't have to marry him—but I feel somehow as if I'd been robbed of that to which every woman is entitled."
It was a delicate subject, and Ruth hardly knew how to handle it. But a thought came into her mind and she gave expression to it.
