207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. " Ruth turned back toward the stairs. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. "Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known. Sheppard, anxiously. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another.
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