“The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter. She hesitated, and for a moment thought of omitting her second verse altogether. Instead of which they walked sharply. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. She sank upon her knees and unbuttoned his coat. And, now, to find a messenger. "I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. Love … to take her in his arms and to comfort her: and then to add to her cup of bitterness the knowledge that her husband was a thief! For himself he did not care; God could continue to grind and pulverize him; but to add another grain to the evil he had already wrought upon Ruth was unthinkable. I must have something in hand.
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