G. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. Ruth wore a printed cotton kimono. It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. Of course she had often heard sailors hammering out their ditties. It looked as if it had taken its world for granted and prospered on that assumption—a world in which children were trained to obey their elders and the wills of women over-ruled as a matter of course. Perhaps she would have to charge this man and appear in a police-court next day.
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