What’s that?” They both stood listening. He had his sections of the Siegfried map folded in his pocket, and he squatted up with his legs crossed like an Indian idol while she lay prone beside him and followed every movement of his indicatory finger. Then he put the paper by. There was no one stirring in the flats. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind. When I went I was refused admittance. "Look at him!" Ruth looked. ‘Do you tell me that my disreputable son had the infernal insolence to pass you off as that whoring Frenchwoman’s daughter?’ His answer was in their faces. Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another.
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