The Virtuous Woman by Gilbert Morris

silence rose between them. The last thing Ruby wanted to talk about was God. She watched the waiter clear dishes from the other empty tables.
    “You married?” she asked.
    “No.”
    “I knew you weren’t,” she said with a grin. “I can always tell when men are married.”
    “Because they wear rings?”
    “No, a lot of them take them off. But they always look guilty. Why aren’t you married?”
    “Haven’t found anyone I want to share my life with, I guess.”
    “What about girlfriends?”
    “What about them?”
    “Are you dense? I’m askin’ you about your love life!”
    Francis’s face reddened and she laughed loudly. “I don’t believe it! I didn’t think there was a man left in America that could blush. You oughta do something about that.”
    “Not that much to tell in that area,” he said, looking uncomfortable or maybe even angry.
    “Why not? How old are you?”
    “Twenty-eight.”
    “Twenty-eight and no girlfriend! What’s the matter? Don’t you like women?”
    “Which women?”
    “You’ve got a mind like a butterfly,” she said. “What do you mean ‘which women’?”
    “I mean, I like some women, and I don’t like others.”
    She laughed and leaned across the table. “What about me?”
    He looked daunted by her aggressiveness. “It wouldn’t matter if I did. I’m not your type.”
    Now she was the one who was angry. “You think Hack was my type?” She waited for him to answer, and when he did not, she said, “I’m goin’ to bed.”
    “I’m tired too. We’ll be in New York tomorrow.”
    Ruby left the dining car, leaving Francis to pay the check. She wasn’t sure why the conversation had angered her. Perhaps because he seemed so innocent and she was not. She was a woman of sudden impulses, and as she reached their compartment, she had an idea. “We’ll just see how innocent he is and what a big Christian he can be with a real woman.” She went into the compartment and waited. When he came in, she said nothing but went into the tiny bathroom and brushed her teeth. When she came out, he was lying in the bed looking up at the underside of the bunk above. She opened her suitcase and pulled out a sheer black gown, remembering what she’d thought when she had first seen it, You can read a newspaper through this thing!
    She started to take off her skirt and immediately Key rolled over to face the wall, groaning slightly with the effort. She stripped down and put on the sheer nightgown. Instead of climbing up into the bunk, she sat down on the bed beside him and touched his shoulder. “Key,” she whispered.
    He rolled over. “What is it?” When he saw the sheer gown,he stiffened and turned his head away. “What is it, Ruby? Something wrong?”
    A sense of disappointment swept through her. Any other man she had ever met would have interpreted what she had done as an open invitation. She had been hoping he would too. Not that she would have let him follow through, but she thought she could expose his hypocrisy. Ruby leaned forward and pressed her figure against his arm. “Don’t you ever get lonely, Key?”
    He did not answer, and she reached out and touched his face. “Turn over,” she said. “Look at me.”
    But instead of turning toward her, he shifted his body away from her and said in a strained voice, “Good night, Miss Winslow.”
    Rage boiled up in Ruby. Such rejection was a new experience for her and an unpleasant one. The mirror told her she was attractive, and enough men had made that evident. Now this little runt was turning her down. She stared at the back of his head and wanted to hit him, but she got to her feet, clambered up into bed, and jerked the cover over her. As the train ran on through the night, she clenched her fist tightly and thought of ways to torment Francis Key. He couldn’t treat her like this!
    Her hard life had taught her to be on her guard, but she had not always been cautious, and more than one man had taken advantage of her. She