He wore cheap store-clothes, and a turn-down collar which rested upon a ready-made tie of enormous proportions.

It was a picture he had had taken in his first new clothes soon after coming to Clayton.

Ruth had found it in an old book of Annette's.
How crude and ludicrous the awkward boy looked beside the elegant figures on the walls about her! She leaned nearer the fire to get the light on the face, then she smiled with a sudden rush of tenderness.
The photographer had done his worst for the figure, but even an unskilled hand and a poor camera had not wholly obliterated the fineness of the face.

Spirit, honor, and strength were all there.

The eyes that met hers were as fine and fearless as her own, and the honest smile that hovered on his lips seemed to be in frank amusement at his own sorry self.
Ruth turned to see that the door was closed, then she put the picture to her cheek, which was crimson in the firelight, and with hesitating shyness gradually drew it to her lips and held it there.
A noise of wheels in the avenue brought her to her feet with a little start of joy.