She tried to be casual. She brought her face to his chest, turning her head sideways so he would not notice her elongated canines. Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house. Not since she had discovered it had Ruth touched or opened the mission Bible; but to-night (the same upon which the wonderful manuscripts started on their long and circuitous voyage to America) she was inexplicably drawn to it. Yet he’s been here for six years, and he’s as much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard. But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling. There was no one to be seen. She went out into the hall, where she met the Jedsons in their kimonos.
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