CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. . He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. "All's bowman, my covey. \" He said to her as he threw the gear into Park. Cocking the gun. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. His breath grew shallower as he approached the room, conscious of the loudness of his hallway-reverberated footfalls. .
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