. " "Entreat a fiddlestick!" retorted Mrs. ‘You ain’t got nothing on me. While waiting for his coming she had stated her present and future relations with him with what had seemed to her the most satisfactory lucidity and completeness. But one was clearly the goddess among them, her face hidden, her body seeming to call out to me to possess it at once. Besides, he was a Yale man. She knew that I cared for her, she had admitted that she cared for me. But your cracked skull is by no means a pleasing spectacle. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. The smell that emanated from the opening was abominable. It was decrepit and too large.
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