“It isn’t a joke,” she said. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. ” A man who had been sitting with his hat tilted over his eyes at an adjacent table had risen to his feet and stood suddenly before them. Lucy howled as tooth met bone, her arm clamped in the trap of Rhea’s huge canines. “It really seems as if we shall have to put down marigolds altogether next year,” Aunt Molly repeated three times, “and do away with marguerites.
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