And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. Martin’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his head. She went to her own table and sat down. Now, it was a wilderness of weeds. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. They chatted pleasantly as he drove around the neighborhood for a half an hour, then stopped by the Diedermayer house. Ennison’s signet-ring had cut nearly to the bone. . It was no marriage at all.
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