” “And he sat at my table,” Annabel said bitterly, “and yet he did not know me. “Why?” “I still love you. "Something is sure to arise in the course of the investigation, of which I can take advantage. "The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife. He wondered if, after all, McClintock wasn't nearest the truth, that Ruth was one of those unfortunate yet innocent women who make havoc with the hearts of men. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. Meet me. Still, his conscience was partly satisfied. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear.
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