Pretense was foolish.

Imogene leaned forward in her seat and rested her crossed arms upon her knees, directing her look at the floor.

Her fluffy golden hair had been slightly disarranged when she removed her hat and so remained.

Her face was thinner than in the summer, with a pinched aspect about her lips.
"The situation is this," she began, slowly.

"Ruth and I are not really on good terms and we've been perilously near a break several times.
But I've restrained my temper and my tongue to avoid one, because I feel I must remain as long as she does.