Tom swore he hadn't set eyes on him since the trial. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. He guided himself between her legs. Ruth's arm trembled and her step faltered, but he was too far away in thought to be observant. At length, about three o'clock, as the first glimmer of dawn became visible through the barred casements of the round-house, the rattling of bolts and chains at the outer door told that some one was admitted. She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention. He was afraid if he stayed that he would make a fool of himself. But tell me one thing I don’t understand—tell me one thing: How can you help it by coming down into the battle and the mire? That’s the thing that concerns me. The thought of Capes flooded her being like long-veiled sunlight breaking again through clouds. He, next cautiously tried the door, but found it fastened inside.
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