"Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Wild is incapable of such baseness. He resented being regarded as irregular. Like a trollop in heat. CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. “We don’t let to ladies,” they said. His vicious abusiveness vanished. “You have them both,” Anna answered. Still, it was true about men.
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