Being a Chinaman in blood and instinct, he despised all spinsters; they were parasites. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. Then he went on: “—and, indeed, to most of the established things in life is, frankly, unsatisfactory. He stared at her stupidly, forgetting to guard against the tactics he had come to expect from her. But don't suppose, Madam, that anything I say has reference to you. Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations. Even after this woman had gone, it seemed to Ruth that the room was kindlier than it had ever been. You are one of the Immortals.
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