"Yes, your son, Madam. She was dressed for the street very much as her own maid was accustomed to dress, and there was a thick veil attached to her hat. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. She also knew that he was the type who would not make a single physical overture until she pushed the correct buttons. You had better let me go again. Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream.
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