It was on a Friday evening, an inauspicious Friday, that poor Ruby Ruggles had insisted on leaving the security of her Aunt Pipkin's house with her aristocratic and vicious lover, in spite of the positive assurance made to her by Mrs. Pipkin that if she went forth in such company she should not be allowed to return. "Of course you must let her in," Mrs. Hurtle had said soon after the girl's departure. Whereupon Mrs. Pipkin had cried. She knew her own softness too well to suppose it to be possible that she could keep the girl out in the streets all night; but yet it was hard upon her, very hard, that she should be so troubled. "We usen't to have our ways like that when I was young," she said, sobbing. What was to be the end of it? Was she to be forced by circumstances to keep the girl always there, let the girl's conduct be what it might? Nevertheless she acknowledged that Ruby must be let in when she came back. Then, about nine o'clock, John Crumb came; and the latter part of the evening was more melancholy even than the first. It was impossible to conceal the truth from John Crumb. 
It was on a Friday evening that this happened.
"Of course you must let her in," Mrs. Hurtle had said to Mrs. Pipkin, after the girl's departure. Whereupon Mrs. Pipkin had cried. She knew she could not keep the girl out in the streets all night; yet it was hard upon her to be so troubled.
"We usen't to have ways like that when I was young," she said, sobbing. Nevertheless she acknowledged that Ruby must be let in when she came back. Then, about nine o'clock, John Crumb came, and it was impossible to conceal the truth from him. 