At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully.

She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted.
Detached, it was not impossible that she would be forced to leave the dining room because of invading tears.

To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic.

The world had grown dark and wide, and she was very small.

Doubts began to rise up all about her, plucking at her confidence.