It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. Probably he will come around to-morrow and begin all over again. Over here men drink because they are lonely; and when they drink too hard and too long, they wind up on the beach. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. "Here's a cross-bite.
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