"Ye ate a few bites and called that a meal? Poppycock, sir. Ye need ta eat more than a few bites of yer vittles. Sit. Sit I say and eat!" She then left the room long enough to feed the baby because she could not, as a mother, put someone else's needs before her child. That and she needed to calm herself down or maybe have a good cry. Oh, but that good cry sounded good right about then... It wasn't mere frustration, but it was knowing his story that made it hard. He had become a broken man, it seemed to her, and nobody knew how to help pick up the pieces. She returned to the library sometime later with a milk-drunk infant. Ruth had, indeed, wept, but she kept it to herself. If there were any books left to shelve, she would return to shelving, ignoring the food herself whether it was untouched or eaten. She was hungry, but she said she was going to help finish the books and damned if she didn't.