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He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street. . And, without another word, he seized the table with both hands, and upset it; scattering plates, dishes, bottles, jugs, and glasses far and wide. Why did he take me?’ Martha’s damp eyes were puzzled. But those days are over—quite over. She comprehends what we're about.
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