Her thought spoke aloud. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. Moreoever, it had cost her a whipping and several days’ imprisonment in her cell on bread and water. (“Good job. “I believe that you are right,” he said softly. Latterly I’ve been doing things. . I tried. The only mercy you can show me is to kill me. So here I am, king of all I survey, with a predilection for poker, a scorched liver, and a piano-player.
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