"You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. On beholding the intruders, his fears changed to exultation, and he uttered a roar of satisfaction as he glared at them, which could only be likened to the cry of some savage denizen of the plains. There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice. You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. He looked at her in some embarrassment. He smiled. If and when Ray was ever found, she would be long gone and they would be unable to explain what had happened to him. For Ruth was in love, tenderly and beautifully in love; but she did not know how to express it beyond the fetch and carry phase. It was eleven o'clock. One wants helpers and protectors—and clean water. .
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