Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. "Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat. His hair was thick and brown and his skin was fair. Slowly a mirthless and very unpleasant smile dawned upon his face. "I'll tell you why," he said. No, no! Not now!" Ruth turned abruptly and walked toward the bungalow, mounted the veranda steps, and vanished within. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. ‘May I, indeed? I’ll take you up on that.
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