“You don’t need to, you’ve given your son,” said Ruth flashing a glance of glorified understanding at the woman.
A beautiful smile came out on the tired sorrowful face.
“Yes, I’ve given him,” she said, “but I’m hoping God will give him back again some day. Do you think that’s too much to hope. He is such a good boy!”
“Of course not,” said Ruth sharply with a sudden sting of apprehension in her soul. And then she remembered that she had no very intimate acquaintance with God. She wished she might be on speaking terms, at least, and she would go and present a plea for this lonely woman. If it were only Captain La Rue, her favorite cousin, or even the President, she might consider it. But God! She shuddered. Didn’t God let this awful war be? Why did He do it? She had never thought much about God before.
“I wish you would let me come to see you sometime and take you for another ride,” she said sweetly.
“It would be beautiful!” said the older woman, “if you would care to take the time from your own friends.”
“I would love to have you for one of my friends,” said the girl gracefully.
The woman smiled wistfully.
“I’m only here holidays and evenings,” she conceded, “I’m doing some government work now.”
“I shall come,” said Ruth brightly. “I’ve enjoyed you ever so much.” Then she started her car and whirled away into the sunshine.