"My God! will you see your child strangled before your eyes, and not so much as scream for help?" said Wood, staring at the widow with a look of surprise and horror. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room. ” The girl on the lounge drew a long sobbing breath. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. \" The thick girl with the blue- black hair spat. Why had she married him, off-hand, like that? She did not love him, or he knew nothing of love signs. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. “What was that?” she asked sharply.
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