’ Her features broke apart in a laugh. \" Lucy winced. “Very well,” said her father. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. Gosse sneered. Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear.
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