"Ali Baba, in a blue-serge coat!… God-forsaken fool!" CHAPTER XIII One day Ruth caught the patient's eyes following her about; but there was no question in the gaze, no interest; so she pretended not to notice. Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. "Our talking will not bother him. Her mouth lolled open and drool seeped down one corner.
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