She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. I almost died from this flu. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. But an individual she never laid eyes on day before yesterday! And the minute he gets up, he'll head for the public bar. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. ‘Parbleu, but what a person you make me! One who spies. I wonder why on earth the curtains are drawn.
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