He did not know what it was that she wore. He did not know that the
muslin of her dress had cost an hundred francs the yard. He did not know
how charmingly odd the mode of its make was, since Ruth's little hands
had planned it out of her own pretty head in enchanting ignorance of the
fashion. He knew nothing of the value of the three-cornered kerchief of
white lace which tied down her gypsy hat. He did not notice that the
flowers on her hat were primroses, or that the long gloves meeting the
short sleeves and the slender little slippers peeping from beneath her
skirt, were both of the finest primrose kid. He saw only the beauty of
her face smiling at him from under the gypsy hat, the sweetness of her
red lips, and the charm of her blue eyes. And she seeing only the look
that she had seen in every man's eyes ever since she could remember, was
not made vain thereby, as a less beautiful girl might have been. She
took it all for granted and thought no more about it. Rising on the tips
of her toes, she put back an unruly lock of David's hair with a last
loving little pat.
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