"But if he said so to her, wasn't that saying so to God just as much as if the preacher had been there?" "No, it wasn't," said Ruth with irritation. "And it's wicked to think such things. All I know is, God says a woman must be married before she--before she has any children. And your mother wasn't." Susan shook her head. "I guess you don't understand any better than I do--really." "No, I don't," confessed Ruth. "But I'd like to see any man more than kiss me or put his arm round me without our having been married." "But," urged Susan, "if he kissed you, wouldn't that be like marriage?" "Some say so," admitted Ruth. "But I'm not so strict. A little kissing and that often leads a man to propose." Susan reflected again. "It all sounds low and sneaking to me," was her final verdict. "I don't want to have anything to do with it. But I'm sure my mother was a good woman. It wasn't her fault if she was lied to, when she loved and believed. And anybody who blames her is low and bad. I'm glad I haven't got any father, if fathers have to be made to promise before everybody or else they'll not keep their word." "Well, I'll not argue about it," said Ruth. "I'm telling you the way things are. The woman has to take _all_ the blame." Susan lifted her head haughtily. "I'd be glad to be blamed by anybody who was wicked enough to be that unjust. I'd not have anything to do with such people." "Then you'd live alone." "No, I shouldn't. There are lots of people who are good and----" "That's wicked, Susan," interrupted Ruth. "All good people think as I tell you they do." "Do Aunt Fanny and Uncle George blame my mother?" "Of course. How could they help it, when she----" Ruth was checked by the gathering lightnings in those violet-gray eyes. "But," pursued Susan, after a pause, "even if they were wicked enough to blame my mother, they couldn't blame me." "Of course not," declared Ruth warmly. "Hasn't everybody always been sweet and kind to you?" "But last night you said----" Ruth hid her face. "I'm ashamed of what I said last night," she murmured. "I've got, Oh, such a _nasty_ disposition, Susie." "But what you said--wasn't it so?" Ruth turned away her head. Susan drew a long sigh, so quietly that Ruth could not have heard. "You understand," Ruth said gently, "everybody feels sorry for you and----" Susan frowned stormily, "They'd better feel sorry for themselves." "Oh, Susie, dear," cried Ruth, impulsively catching her hand, "we all love you, and mother and father and I--we'll stand up for you through everything----" "Don't you _dare_ feel sorry for me!" Susan cried, wrenching her hand away. Ruth's eyes filled with tears. "You can't blame us because everybody---- You know, God says, 'The sins of the fathers shall be visited on the children----'" "I'm done with everybody," cried Susan, rising and lifting her proud head, "I'm done with God."