RUTH. He used me worse than ever. He couldn't break my nerve, but I lost my health; and then he began knocking the children about. I couldn't stand that. I wouldn't go back now, if he were dying.
COKESON. [Who has risen and is shifting about as though dodging a stream of lava] We mustn't be violent, must we?
RUTH. [Smouldering] A man that can't behave better than that—
[There is silence]
COKESON. [Fascinated in spite of himself] Then there you were! And what did you do then?
RUTH. [With a shrug] Tried the same as when I left him before, . . . making skirts… cheap things. It was the best I could get, but I never made more than ten shillings a week, buying my own cotton and working all day; I hardly ever got to bed till past twelve. I kept at it for nine months. [Fiercely] Well, I'm not fit for that; I wasn't made for it. I'd rather die.
COKESON. My dear woman! We mustn't talk like that.
RUTH. It was starvation for the children too—after what they'd always had. I soon got not to care. I used to be too tired. [She is silent]
COKESON. [With fearful curiosity] Why, what happened then?
RUTH. [With a laugh] My employer happened then—he's happened ever since.
COKESON. Dear! Oh dear! I never came across a thing like this.