And often Ruth says to me: "I know you love me, Chet, but sometimes I can't help feeling a little jealous of the girl you cared for--that, what's her name? Oh, yes, Vicky Van!" "Vicky Van was all right," I stoutly maintain. "I never knew a more charming, sweeter, prettier, dearer little girl than Vicky!" "But she was awfully made up!" "Yes, that's where you score an advantage. The only thing about Vicky I disapproved of was her paint and powder. Thank heaven, my wife has a complexion that's all her own." And I kissed the soft, pale cheek of my own Ruth.