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“Do you believe me now?” She asked. Show him no quarter, Poll. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. 137 The living conditions of her kills were often so sordid that she would spend hours washing them off of her, and August brought her to the Greene River once again, scrubbing the stink from her hair with Ivory Liquid Dishwashing Detergent. And now I find, when it is too late, that I might have deserved you—that I am as well born as Thames Darrell.
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