Capes smiled cheerfully with his eyes meeting hers. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. The bedding was removed; Mrs. . She was fatigued physically and mentally, and neither mind nor body could rest. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. She imagined herself on a barren 41 plain, post-Apocalypse, convulsing, waiting to die with the cockroach.
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