126 Lucy drank them as the first rays of watery sunlight seeped through the mullioned windows, then put their husks in the claw-footed bathtub. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. Trenchard was tempted to examine the contents of some of these cases, but a closer inspection made him recoil from them in disgust. Still no sound. What is your father's business?" The question was an impertinence, but Ruth was not aware of that. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard.
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