] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. And when Mr. . . Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. She could read that Martin had a crush on her and was perhaps even going to try and challenge John as he was the bold sort. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse.
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