"Do they treat you ill?" asked her son. Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly. He beamed as she whispered to 22 him that she had seen a table so fine or tasted such wonders. He was a shy boy outwardly but she knew him better in his thoughts, in which perhaps she had already taken upon the role of lover. So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. Charcoal. If you ask me, you’ll have to beat her regularly if you don’t want to live a dog’s life. “You must tell me the truth, please.
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