I see. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. She pulled the door so that it was not quite to, and held out her hand, palm up. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. She lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter. "What's that?" demanded McClintock. Why had Ruth married him? A penniless outcast, for she must have known he was that. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison.
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