It was as if he could smell it on her. Spurlock bent his head to the rail. Hill closed his eyes. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. She was given a glimpse of his soul. To-morrow, when she returned to Hong-Kong, she would purchase a simple but modern dress.
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