CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. ‘I do not mind to pray, no. "Ha!" he exclaimed, with a sudden start, as his glance fell upon the portrait; "how came this into your possession, boy?" "Why don't you answer, sirrah?" cried Wild, in a savage tone, and striking him with the silver staff. His arms were naturally big and his chest was covered with a smattering of soft hairs.
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