" Ruth brushed her eyes with one hand and with the other signed for the spinster to stop. She swallowed hard. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. Spit of your mother. I’ve been waiting all my life to get out of this town. ’ The snaking suspicion rolled through his mind again. “You are my friend,” she said, “if any one is. Brendon.
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