Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. " The Wastrel tried to reach Ruth's lips. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. Anna was more difficult. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame.
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