Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. His face fell. Get the men back to their posts. The blaze, however, was sufficient to reveal to the thief-taker the features of his intended assassin. Ruth, having decided a course for herself—that of renunciation—and having the strength to keep it, met these advances in precisely the mood they were offered. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself.
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