She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. We shall have—hardly any money. He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. “Go it, miss!” cried one. And now you must go back, take up your work and think all this over. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. I kept them on myself till the sight of your empty chair and the chill loneliness of it all nearly sent me mad. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered.
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