He seemed to have expected them. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. She had worn a long skirt that morning, and a roomier sweater that was slightly easier to handle than Shari’s low cut numbers. “A ballot-box, you know,” he said, “is very largely just a box. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. ‘—and what do I do? Well, we know what I do. “You do not quite understand,” she said gently. " "Here he is!" cried Ireton, as the knocking was heard without. ' Will that do?" "It will," replied Trenchard.
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