It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. "It has been … rather a hard day, Hoddy," Ruth answered. "Past noon," replied Blueskin. But I don’t wish to hear that abomination on her lips again. From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. Since she was only seventeen when she had them, she didn’t deal with it very well. He had assumed that her leaving home was the point at issue, that everything turned on that, and that the sole alternative was obedience, and she had fallen in with that assumption until rebellion seemed a sacred principle. New customs have prevailed over the old.
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