He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. She grew attached to a pair of twins, a boy named Fritz and a girl named Anna, belonging to an auburn-haired Viennese prostitute named Clotilde. “Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. . But why do you ask?" "Because—" stammered the boy. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. She did not know herself. "Well, well, we'll say no more about it," replied Wood; "and, by way of changing the subject, let me advise you on no account to fly to strong waters for consolation, Joan. You won't often see white folks.
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