She had gained respect all about town with news of her fine marriage, and her reputation as a beauty was expanding. She was very greatly exercised by the two systems of values—the two series of explanations that her comparative anatomy on the one hand and her sense of beauty on the other, set going in her thoughts. “You were booked of course. “Call me Cathy, John. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. I was his wife. So Ruth returned to her room and sorted the books and magazines the doctor had loaned her, inspected the titles and searched for pictures. Our quarrel's quite over. It was a boy baby cooing in swaddling clothes, a baby who had just been born to the butcher's servant across the alley, the maid Isobella who trailed behind, beaming. His heart was beating, but faintly and slowly, with ominous intermissions. It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. She listened with dumb fear in her eyes.
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