If Ruth was to hear bad news it could at least be qualified.
"That depends somewhat on the wording of his contract, Breen, and a good deal on whether this village wants to hold him to it.

I'm not crossing any bridges of that kind, and don't you.

What I'm worrying about is the number of days and nights it's going to take to patch this work so they can get trains through our tunnel--And, Breen--" "Yes, sir," answered Jack, as he stopped and looked over his shoulder.
There were wings on his feet now.
"Get into some dry clothes before you come back." While all this had been going on Ruth had stood at the window in the upper hall opposite the one banked with geraniums, too horrified to move.

She had watched with the aid of her opera-glass the wild torrent rushing through the meadow, and she had heard the shouts of the people in the streets and the prolonged roar when the boulevard embankment gave way.
The hurried entrance and startled cry of the grocer's boy in the kitchen below, and the loud talk that followed, made her move to the head of the stairs.

There she stood listening, her heart in her mouth, her knees trembling.