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" "No doubt, my dear," acquiesced the carpenter, "no doubt. At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. "The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife. She heard the shower running and looked at his floor. One wants helpers and protectors—and clean water. Me, I prefer to forget that I have such a father. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung round the corner she had seen a strange thing. After all, that was life.
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