As for herself, she forced herself to go a good deal into society for her husband's sake. Her back troubled her at times, and she was far from strong. Dear Mother—well, she was still Ruth's ideal of a mother and a Christian gentlewoman, but disappointment in her sons would undoubtedly kill her dead in the long run. She had not seen John or heard from him in a long time. Mark was having trouble with his wife ("or perhaps it is she, poor woman, who is having trouble with him"); "but James, whom I am really learning to like and understand, goes everywhere and keeps up the family name and prestige."
She spoke of their father last. He had been found unconscious on the floor of his church and had been obliged to confess that for a long time he had been suffering from heart attacks.
"He is not long for this world, and if you have learned all that you need to know about art, and other things, don't you think it time to think about coming home and doing your duty by your parents? Heaven knows they have done their duty by you."
The next day there came a letter from Edward's father.
"This," he wrote, "my dear boy, is a postscript to my last. Ruth has been to see me, for the sole purpose, apparently, of retailing some nasty gos-
