He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. Ramage. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. They sat down at the dining room table which seemed empty and 259 huge in the stark, white-walled room. It was a long walk she had to undertake, even if she had endured no previous fatigue, but feeble as she was, it was almost more than she could accomplish. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom.
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