“It's blowin' in the pines on the river,” said Rand shortly.
“You don't hear anything else?”
“No.”
“Nothing like—like—like—”
Rand, who had been listening with an intensity that distorted the left side of his face, interrupted him impatiently.
“Like what?”
“Like a woman sobbin'?”
“Ruth,” said Rand, suddenly looking up in his brother's face, “what's gone of you?”
Ruth laughed. “The fire's out,” he said, abruptly re-entering the cabin. “I'm goin' to turn in.”
Rand, following his brother half reproachfully, saw him divest himself of his clothing, and roll himself in the blankets of his bed.