‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. “I trust you altogether. Or was that perhaps because his business in Piccadilly the other day had gone awry? Perhaps Brewis Charvill had not welcomed him with open arms. He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired. She drew a long breath. Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. Perhaps, she may tell me whose picture this is.
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