She left for good after he fell asleep. Ruth, having decided a course for herself—that of renunciation—and having the strength to keep it, met these advances in precisely the mood they were offered. Constance Widgett’s abundant copper-red hair was bent down over some dimly remunerative work—stencilling in colors upon rough, white material—at a kitchen table she had dragged up-stairs for the purpose, while on her bed there was seated a slender lady of thirty or so in a dingy green dress, whom Constance had introduced with a wave of her hand as Miss Miniver. Cased and ribbed with stone, and braced with horizontal beams of timber, the piles, which formed the foundation of these jetties, had resisted the strong encroachments of the current for centuries. Ruth could not very well object, since an air of distinction would go with Taber. It was so hopeless to put it to them. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. . But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling. Then Mike came along. The Law was around the corner and down the narrow hall, puffing a Virginia Slims Menthol in frantic sips, teetering uncomfortably out of an emergency exit door.
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