. "What is it?" "Can't you see? Together, down there; you and I!… As my wife! Both of us, never to be lonely again!… Will you marry me, Ruth?" As many a wiser woman had done, Ruth mistook thrilling eagerness for love. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. It was the only time she had ever hit him, punched him right in the stomach like one of his favorite Three Stooges episodes. He did not particularly care. She was a swan among geese, trying to look plain and dowdy. Only au revoir. She was definitely following him. She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste.
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