His glance came up again and met hers. He saw now that it was merely a boy. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. I’ve accustomed myself to think of you— as if you were like every other girl who works at the schools—as something quite outside these possibilities. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. She resumed her on guard position, and glaring steadily at him, waited again. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things.
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