Saturday mornings at the Beck house were routine, coffee, newspaper, bagels, and Looney Toons in no particular order. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. But whither The Tigress was bound or who the owner was lay beyond the reach of Ah Cum's deductions. "One of you fly to the market," returned Jonathan; "another to the river; a third to the New Mint. So long as he lived, Spurlock knew that in fancy he would be reconstructing that scene between himself and Ruth's father. She was gathering quite a crowd in her newfound popularity, and the phenomenon was so apparent she could almost form her own harem of young boys.
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