" "Not in the least, Sir," replied Tom, in a drowsy tone, and with a look seeming to imply that he was too much accustomed to odd noises at night to heed them. Jolly nice girl, too. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. “I never saw Courtlaw with her—never heard her speak of him. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. Once a thriving town before the Pestilence, most of the buildings and the piers had been destroyed or burned.
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