Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. Seldom they molested a woman who appeared to know where she was going and who kept her glance resolutely to the fore. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts.
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