“Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. See? You marry me. James's built for offices of the meanest description. “Come,” he continued, “the world after all is a very small place. And now you know. ” She said with a smile. 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. What marriage really meant (aside from the idea of escape), Ruth had not the least conception, no more than a child. She opened the door with a neon colored key. He thought it best to let the matter drop. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating. .
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