‘Bête. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. His initial nervousness had already abated, and it took some valour to allow himself to become embroiled in Melusine’s crazy schemes. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her.
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