Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. The telegram dispatched, his obligation cancelled, Ah Cum proceeded homeward, chuckling occasionally. ’ ‘I do not care any more about the portrait,’ Melusine said, opening the door to the attic corridor that gave off onto the row of little rooms that served as private cells for the senior nuns. It’s a pure joy of giving—giving to YOU. There was no one to be seen in the great hall.
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