Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. She says to be home by one AM. His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. Springing upon the box, he told the coachman to make the best of his way to Saint Giles's.
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