But as she got out of the train at Morningside Park Station she had a shock. He knocked at the door. Nor, indeed, did she want to refuse. “Marriage certificates don’t tell lies, at any rate,” he said. If you ask me, you’ll have to beat her regularly if you don’t want to live a dog’s life. She received into her slack grasp the pistol and dagger, only half aware of taking them. He looked at it eagerly, but made no movement to take it. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. Through a blur of tears Ruth followed the rocking light until it vanished.
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