Each morning his inquiry was properly answered: the patient was steadily improving, but none could say when he would be strong enough to proceed upon his journey. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. We all love you dearly. Your Mom says to come downstairs for dessert. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities.
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