Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. So long as she stood beside him, the Hand would not prevail. "We'll do it. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. “It’s either now or never,” she said to herself. She had learned this art in skirts, and knew well how not to be disadvantaged. He reached for her chin and lifted it up. “I don’t mind, of course, your seeing her sometimes, still there are differences— differences in social atmospheres. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils.
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