“How is that carmine working?” he asked, with a forced interest. His thoughts, indeed, were too painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him. "Do they treat you ill?" asked her son. He smothered it down with such a good will that the reaction set his heart to pounding. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. I thought about how insensitive my behavior was and even though I don’t think that I was being antiSemitic on purpose, I can see how dumb I was being. I sha'n't utter a word. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon.
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