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One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. “It is very, very difficult,” she continued, looking steadfastly at the ground. She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. “When one wants a thing more than anything else in the world,” she said with outrageous frankness, “one naturally wishes one had it. Make haste!" Ruth hurried off to her own room. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice. She could not say a word, much less move. "Time to dress for dinner," said Ruth from behind the curtain. But don't thank me; thank Miss Enschede. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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