"He wasn't really ugly, you know," explained Win, "and I don't say she's glad he's dead. But he thwarted her in every little way that she wanted to enjoy herself. They had a box at the opera, and a big country house and all that, but he wouldn't let her go to matinees or have a motor of her own or buy anything until he had passed judgment on it. She even had to submit her costume designs to him, and if he approved the dressmaker made them up. And he wouldn't let her have fashionable clothes. They had to be plain and of rich heavy materials, such as the sisters wear. Mr. Schuyler was under the thumb of those two old maids, and Rhoda, especially, put him up to all sorts of schemes to bother Ruth." "Do you call her Ruth?" I asked, in surprise. "Yes, she told me I might. She's lovely to me, and I'm so glad to do all I can for her. Honest, Chet, she lived an awful life with that man." "I'd like to see her," said Aunt Lucy. "All you've said about her, Winnie, makes me a bit curious." "So you shall, Auntie, some time. She's a real friend of mine now, and even after Edith Crowell goes there as secretary, she says I must often go to see her as her friend." "She's charming," I declared. "Every time I see her I'm more impressed with her gentle dignity. And I don't know how she can be so decent to those two old women." "Nor I," agreed Win, as Aunt Lucy asked, "Is she pretty?" "Is she, Winnie?" I said. "Well, she is and she isn't. She's so colorless, you know. Her hair is that flat ashy blonde, and she's so pale always. Then her eyes and lashes are so light, and--well, ineffective. But her expression is so sweet, and when once in a while she laughs outright, she's very attractive. And she's such a thoroughbred. She never errs in taste or judgment. She knows just what to reply to all the queer letters of condolence that come to her, and just how to talk to the people who call. And that's another thing. She hasn't any friends of her own age. She knows only the people who belong to the most exclusive set, and they're nearly all the age of the old sisters. But Mrs. Schuyler is lovely to them. And in her soft pretty black gowns she looks a whole lot better than she ever did in the ones she wore while he was alive. I've seen them in her wardrobe, and I've seen her try on some that she was going to give away, and they're sights! Elegant, you know, but not the thing for her. Now, that she can select her own, she has beauties." "She certainly must be glad, then, to be freed from such a tyrant," said Aunt Lucy. "Now don't you think that!" insisted Winnie, earnestly. "She may feel, so, 'way down in her deepest heart, but she won't admit it, even to herself. And, of course, no matter how much she didn't love him, she wouldn't want him taken off _that_ way! No, she's perfectly all right, and she mourns that man just as sincerely as any woman could mourn a man who didn't understand her."