He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. “Steady on!” he cried. The coach in which the prisoner had been conveyed was already broken to pieces, and the driver was glad to escape with life. It was the gratification of an immense necessity. "Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. He moved slightly, and she went on, with a slight catching of her breath: “It’s a bother and disturbance, but you see—” She had to go through with it now, because she could think of nothing but her preconceived words.
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