He handed Ruth a letter. She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she thought to herself and smirked. He rested his brow on his hand and conveyed magnificent tragedy by his pose. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. ’ He looked the girl up and down.
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