They visited house after house.
They went over them thoroughly, examining them from the cellars in the basement to the attics under the roof.
Sometimes they were too large and sometimes they were too small; sometimes they were too far from the centre of things and sometimes they were too close; sometimes they were too expensive and sometimes they wanted too many repairs; sometimes they were too stuffy and sometimes they were too airy; sometimes they were too dark and sometimes they were too bleak.
Roger always found a fault that made the house unsuitable.
Of course he was hard to please; he could not bear to ask his dear Ruth to live in any but the perfect house, and the perfect house wanted finding. House-hunting is a tiring and a tiresome business and presendy Ruth began to grow peevish. Roger begged her to have patience; somewhere, surely, existed the very house they were looking for, and it only needed a little perseverance and they would find it.
They looked at hundreds of houses; they climbed thousands of stairs; they inspected innumerable kitchens.
Ruth was exhausted and more than once lost her temper.
"If you don't find a house soon," she said, "I shall have to reconsider my position.
Why, if you go on like this we shan't be married for years."
"Don't say that," he answered, "I beseech you to have patience.
I've just received some entirely new lists from agents I've only just heard of.
There must be at least sixty houses on them."
They set out on the chase again.
They looked at more houses and more houses.
For two years they looked at houses.
Ruth grew silent and scornful: her pathetic, beautiful eyes acquired an expression that was almost sullen.
There are limits to human endurance. Mrs Barlow had the patience of an angel, but at last she revolted.
"Do you want to marry me or do you not?" she asked him.
There was an unaccustomed hardness in her voice, but it did not affect the gentleness of his reply.
"Of course I do.
We'll be married the very moment we find a house.
By the way, I've just heard of something that might suit us."
"I don't feel well enough to look at any more houses just yet."
"Poor dear, I was afraid you were looking rather tired."
Ruth Barlow took to her bed.
She would not see Roger and he had to content himself with calling at her lodgings to inquire and sending her flowers.
He was as ever assiduous and gallant.
Every day he wrote and told her that he had heard of another house for them to look at.
A week passed and then he received the following letter:
Roger - I do not think you really love me.
I have found someone who is anxious to take care of me and I am going to be married to him today.
Ruth
He sent back his reply by special messenger:
Ruth- Your news shatters me.
I shall never get over the blow, but of course your happiness must be my first consideration.
I send you herewith seven orders to view; they arrived by this morning's post and I am quite sure you will find among them a house that will exactly suit you.
Roger