He arose and stood behind her; he touched the black hair. She made no movement or sign. He pulled out two or three combs, and dropping them into her lap let the whole mass tumble about his hands. It had a curious harsh touch in the unravelling, but was so full and shining; black as a rook’s wings it was. He slid his palms through it. His fingers searched it and fought with its fine strangeness; into his mind there travelled a serious thought, stilling his wayward fancy--this was no wayward fancy, but a rite accomplishing itself! (_Run, run, silly man, y’are lost._) But having got so far he burnt his boats, leaned over, and drew her face back to him. And at that, seizing his wrists, she gave him back ardour for ardour, pressing his hands to her bosom, while the kiss was sealed and sealed again. Then she sprang up and picking his hat and scarf from the fender said:
“I have been drying them for you, but the hat has shrunk a bit, I’m sure--I tried it on.”
He took them from her and put them behind him; he leaned lightly back upon the table, holding it with both his hands behind him; he could not speak.
“Aren’t you going to thank me for drying them?” she asked, picking her combs from the rug and repinning her hair.
“I wonder why we did that?” he asked, shamedly.
“You were so beautiful about ... about it, you know.”
She made no rejoinder, but continued to bind her hair, looking brightly at him under her brows. When she had finished she went close to him.
“No, no, the old man or the old woman will be coming in.”
“What of that?” he said, taking her into his arms, “tell me your name.”
She shook her head, but she returned his kisses and stroked his hair and shoulders with beautifully melting gestures.
“What is your name, I want to call you by your name?” he said; “I can’t keep calling you Lovely Woman, Lovely Woman.”
“I’ll call you Ruth then, Dusky Ruth, Ruth of the black, beautiful hair.”
“That is a nice-sounding name--I knew a deaf and dumb girl named Ruth; she went to Nottingham and married an organ-grinder--but I should like it for my name.”
Again the shaken head and the burning caress.
“Then you shall be Ruth; will you keep that name?”
“Yes, if you give me the name I will keep it for you.”