Bolton said something?--why--why--Then the picture of her father's
mangled body would rise before her and all thought of Jack pass
out of her mind.
As the train rolled into the grimy station she was the first to
spring from the car; she knew the way best, and the short cut from
the station to where her father lay. Her face was drawn; her eyes
bloodshot from restrained tears--all the color gone from her
cheeks.
"You bring Aunt Felicia, Uncle Peter,--and the bags;--I will go
ahead," she said, tying her veil so as to shield her face. "No, I
won't wait for anything."
News of Ruth's expected arrival had reached the village, and the
crowd at the station had increased. On its inner circle, close to
a gate leading from the platform, stood a young man in a slouch
hat, with his left wrist bandaged. The arm had hung in a sling
until the train rolled in, then the silk support had been slipped
and hidden in his pocket. Under the slouch hat, the white edge of
a bandage was visible which the wearer vainly tried to conceal by
pulling the hat further on his head,--this subterfuge also
concealed a dark scar on his temple.
Pages:
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295