It was surely odd that her thought should pick up that picture and recast it so vividly. "Well," she said, in reply, "I may have done Jack an injustice. Even the most sullen and withdrawn were sensitive to the penetrating nastiness of the fog. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. "But clear the room of this rabble, if you have sufficient authority over them. It is a plain case of alcoholic stupor. So soft. She met him by the dugout after the game. “You did good!” She closed her eyes and rested in the moment, imagining a normal life where she would go to college, have babies with John, watch her children have children, live, and die as she had always wanted to. He said simply that he wanted her to live at home. When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery.
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