“Is this Sunday?” she asked, sitting up with renewed energy and looking about the room as though everything had changed colour.
“Yes.”
“And YOU GOT A MATINEE?” she exclaimed, incredulously.
“We have services,” he corrected, gently.
“WE rest up on SUNDAYS,” she said in a tone of deep commiseration.
“Oh, I see,” he answered, feeling it no time to enter upon another discussion as to the comparative advantages of their two professions.
“What are you goin' ter spiel about to-day?”
“About Ruth and Naomi.”
“Ruth and who?”
“Naomi,” he repeated.