" "That is what I wanted to know," said Ruth gravely. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. "I should call it putting him out of the way. Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. More often then not he refused to reveal specifics of his own past in Greece and Rome, choosing to relate fables and stories of an impersonal nature. ’ ‘True enough,’ nodded Martha sadly. "My mother is avenged. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. Sheppard, sinking backwards upon the pallet. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth.
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