When he saw her drift, it set him thinking, and he watched Ada with curious attention as she moved about the house helping her mother.
It was Sunday morning, and Ada was shelling peas.

The pods split with a sharp crack under her fingers, and the peas rattled into a tin basin.
She wore an old skirt, torn and shabby; her bodice was split under the arms, showing the white lining.

Her hair lay flat on her forehead, screwed tightly in curling-pins, which brought into relief her fiat face and high cheekbones, for she was no beauty.

By a singular coquetry, she wore her best shoes, small and neat, with high French heels.
Jonah looked at the girl with satisfaction, but she stirred no sentiment, for all women were alike to him.

His view of them was purely animal.