Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. Having secured this,—for he was almost famished,—he said that he had lost a hammer and wished to purchase one. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils.
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