CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. Lord, I am sixty. She was emerging from the primordial as Spurlock was declining toward it. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. It means social isolation—struggle. The dinner was stranger than she had ever anticipated. “And you?” “Same thing. She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. ” “Coarse?” said Capes, “We’re not coarse.
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