Curiosity to see what a sing-song girl was like took possession of Ruth's thoughts. Beneath the hood it was evident that her rebellious hair was bound up with red silk, and fastened by some device in her ears (unless she had them pierced, which was too dreadful a thing to suppose!) were long brass filigree earrings. “I came directly I was disengaged,” Anna answered. She is more dear to me than anything else. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. And, though it's a long time ago, I feel as sore on the subject as ever.
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