She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. She thought me— filthy. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations. ” “I may come a little way, then?” he begged. I'd have got something nice. ” “I suppose so. ‘To find what?’ demanded Gerald.
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