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’ His brows rose. . Drummond smoked his cigarette meditatively. . She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. Our heads swim with the thought of being together. ‘You’re the most troublesome wretch I’ve ever encountered,’ he told her bitterly. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances.
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