At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. One main avenue was for her to become a sort of salaried accessory wife or mother, to be a governess or an assistant schoolmistress, or a very high type of governess-nurse.
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