Ruth could not be told now. Was it a week ago? No, perhaps more. But, since I've seen the friend and companion of my childhood, Thames Darrell, I've no heart for it. His father and mother are gone now. Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze. The pain in Cathy and Shari Beck’s faces upset him the most, but the posters with a close up of her face they had put all over town made his heart ache more. She had found a couple of articles about him over the years, blurbs about the opening of a theater that mentioned him. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. And now for the fawney— the ring I mean. "We have him!" cried Jonathan, hurrying down the steps.
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