As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door. She was dressed as a white woman should be; and that for the present satisfied her instincts. ‘You give me an excellent excuse to have in the Madeira,’ said his hostess, reaching for a silver hand bell and setting it pealing. Did he like freaks? She opened her black umbrella, her giant sun deflector. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. Torment! And so Ruth discovered him. She wanted him, she needed sex, but the two ideas had not formed an equation where a concrete result could be deduced.
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