She met his eye for a moment in curious surprise. Bring me food, a man, hurry!” She placed the stone back over the crypt to hide the evidence of what she had uncovered. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. Why had Ruth married him? A penniless outcast, for she must have known he was that. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. I made her my unwilling confederate.
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