CHAPTER XXXII. Old Bedlam. During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years. In a moment they were in the street outside. She looked around her. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. "Come and see the lagoon in the moonlight.
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