The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. 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. . . Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. The light touch of Ah Cum's hand upon her arm broke the thread of retrospective thought; and her gray eyes began to register again the things she saw.
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