It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. She became aware of his presence as she had never been aware of any human being in her life before. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. They trudged along a little hungry, because of the fruitarian refreshments, and mentally very active. To make Ruth pay for it! He wanted to get away, into some immense echoless tract where he could give vent to this wild laughter which tore at his vitals. Guns were impossible. One hour later she had gone back to the mission—without the salt.
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