Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. Many’s the bullets I’ve dug out of fellows in my time. and Mrs. She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. An unwelcome idea came to him. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. ’ He threw one arm across his own chest and clapped himself on the shoulder. Ruth did not reply, but stared past the doctor, her eyes misty. ” “Wherever you like!” he answered, a little absently.
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