“I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John. I must know what new thing has come between us that she should treat me as a lover one day and a monster the next. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. His salary was a few paltry hundreds a year. Her father was right: Ruth must never know. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. “No, I must have had hope lurking somewhere too. . “We’ll clean up everything tidy,” said Capes. .
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