He reached over and took her hand. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. She knew that in her new rôle she was as likely as not to be a rank failure. "I'll call you when you're wanted. ” “I’ve told you,” he said. Her lips were dry and cracked. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears.
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