In truth, she liked Gerald also. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. He embraced her like her father once had. But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened. Winifred instantly picked it up. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. "Search him and iron him afresh;" commanded Jonathan. There was no longer any risk in association with her. They are long gone.
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