Ruth opened to him with so bright a smile that he was for once taken completely by surprise. He had expected resistance and come armed to meet it.
"Come in, won't you?" she said.
Then he understood. She had thought better of her foolishness.
"That's it, is it?" he said, licking his lips. "That's a good gurl."
"Yes," said Ruth. "Very pleased to see you, I'm sure." She was smarter than usual too, he noticed—to grace the occasion no doubt. And the plain brown dress, the hue of autumn leaves, with the tiny white frill at the collar, revealed the noble lines of her still youthful figure.
The conqueror, breathing hard, entered the kitchen, to be greeted by a cultivated voice from the corner.
"Well, Alfred," it said.
Alf, whose eyes had been on the floor, glanced up with a start.
His father was sitting beside the cradle, beaming mildly on him through gold spectacles.
"Hullo, dad," said Alf, surlily. This large ineffectual father of his had from childhood awed him. There was a mystery about even his mildness, his inefficiency, which Alf had never understood and therefore feared. "I didn't expect to find you here."