Her anger parlayed with her confusion, as she realized that the new marriage was about as optional as the first one and her hunger was growing inside her like a weed. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. “Ssh!” said her mother, and then added, “A little natural feeling, dear. She closed her eyes as if asleep, her hands folded neatly on her abdomen.
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