Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. He resolved to judge for himself. M. His lawful wife; but nothing more; beyond that she was only an idea, a trust. Sheila knew that the Eat & Shop on the corner of 53rd and Oleson was a flimsy front for an all-in-the-family whorehouse. But all these hours, trying to teach the child wariness toward life, and the moment his back was turned, this! He was, perhaps, still dazed by the inner revelation—his own interest in Ruth. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile.
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