She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. "I haven't worn anything else in weeks. " "If you mean the fugitive, Darrell, he has escaped through the back window," replied Jonathan. She gloried in it: he needed her. The less said, therefore, on this point the better; because, as nothing is to be gained by it, it would only be trouble thrown away. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. The sing-song girl, seeing Ruth, extended her hands and began to chatter rapidly.
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