The cloth nearly touches the floor. Poor little one. She could see that he was curious, so she sat upon him and they rocked back and forth. It was hard to resist. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. " "My turn comes before yours, Sir," interposed his better half. But you must leave us now, dear Winny, Jack and I have something to settle between ourselves. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers.
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