When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. It’s no good. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. "The nurses," she answered. She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. “Okay, Mom. But it is all over now, and presently there will be some one else. The girl in the forward chair raised herself a little, the better to see the gorgeous blue palanquin of the dimly visible bride. A cold shiver came over her.
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