Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it. You think you will. Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid. To her horror she realized that she had nearly forgotten how to kiss after a years-long dry spell, and she could detect drool on her own chin and John’s cheek. A single glance served to show the thief-taker how matters stood. The ceiling had, in many places, given way; the laths had been removed; and, where any plaster remained, it was either mapped and blistered with damps, or festooned with dusty cobwebs. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where, Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head. Suddenly all this makes you human.
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