’ He let her go. His eyes closed. He flipped the television on. She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. “In a sort of beautiful garden-close—wearing lovely dresses and picking beautiful flowers?” “Ah! If one could!” “While those other girls trudge to business and those other women let lodgings. “It’s his birthday. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. ‘Think I’m fool enough to do my business in a convent?’ he said scornfully.
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