The impassivity of her features changed at last. When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery. Presently the odour of burnt powder mingled agreeably with that of the incense. ‘You see, it is that my papa, he is without sympathy,’ said the lady sadly. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. Lucy changed into her Goodwill jeans and sweatshirt, plastering her hair down with an elastic band and securing it under a tight hood. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. A.
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