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Ruth's arm trembled and her step faltered, but he was too far away in thought to be observant. For most of a long and fluctuating night she was fairly confident that she would find work; she knew herself to be strong, intelligent, and capable by the standards of most of the girls she knew. " "Funny, about that coat. "Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels.
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